


Dance With Devils

by Candy_Mandy



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:46:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 84,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_Mandy/pseuds/Candy_Mandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...and sometimes we are the devils and temptations of others."</p>
<p>This work just follows imaginings of a female Hawke and her romance with Anders.</p>
<p>While close to the game storyline, events are altered and rearranged.</p>
<p>There will be cheesy cliches. There will be fluff. There will be "adult" content. Each chapter will be noted with appropriate warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Armors of Temptation

 

 

> "They sailed north across the Waking Sea, lashed by terrible storms. Two weeks they spent in that dark hold, packed in with the fearful and the desperate. And then they saw it: Kirkwall, the City of Chains. Long ago, it was part of the Imperium, slaves coming far and wide to work the quarries. Now it’s a free city. But I use the word loosely. Sail through those black cliffs, and you’ll see what the slaves of old saw: the Gallows, welcoming you. That’s where their ship landed with all the rest."  
> 

We all have our own devils and temptations; and sometimes we are the devils and temptations of others.

  
Catalina Hawke was once a little girl; hair falling into her shy dark brown eyes, a sweet, small and mischievous smile that made her appear like a fairy given her petite frame. Little Kitty Hawke saw the world full of simple promise, and seemed mostly content with her lot. Then reality crept its way into her childhood seemingly overnight. Kitty Hawke took shelter as she watched the dark creep in and the black hold of ignorance and hatred form bars around her and all she held dear. Catalina Hawke did not have time to grow or to transform from girl to maiden; instead the world stripped away the simple promises, twisting them and striking at her. Because of this, Hawke blinked into existence—a woman where a little girl once stood.

  
Reality would not wait; the world would not stop spinning. There was no time to mourn; there was no reason. The world applied pressure, and Kitty Hawke would not allow herself to be crushed—she was Hawke, and wore that mantle like armor. She studied the dance of life as it took her for spins and turns; she learned the steps and chaotic rules. The world saw a strong determined woman but inside she knew she was a little girl playing in her father’s armor. Who knew scared little girls could be so strong?

  
Her father was gone—his loss made her world colder but she survived. She had to, for her mother’s sake, and for her sister and brother. Three years later, she tasted the bitterness of betrayal and fear when King Cailin and most of his army—her second family forged in fire-- fell at Ostagar. Still she knew she had work to do, and worked with her brother to help Mother and Bethany escape Lothering as it fell to Darkspawn and the Blight.

  
It was in that escape that her failure came at the cost of Carver. There was no time to mourn—Mother and Bethany were in danger. At the added cost of her mother’s pain in leaving Carver, she forced them on. She swallowed the deep and bitter heartache and pushed on to keep Mother and Bethany safe.

  
Hawke was born as protection, a shield that Kitty Hawke extended to protect her family—to protect Bethany. She would not let the world strip everything away from Bethany. She could not keep everything away, but she could blunt the effect by taking the force of reality herself. Catalina Hawke did so before and would continue to do so until the armor she shaped herself into was not needed or irrevocably broken.


	2. A Proposition and Warnings

There was no helping it, Hawke decided as she stared at the dwarf in front of her. He was a bit too smooth, but Hawke needed coin or else the Templars would descend and Bethany would be taken away.  She agreed to the proposition, coin would be raised and she would buy into the expedition: profits raised from the investment could then be used to ensure Mother and Bethany’s safety.  
  
Of course there was just one problem, entrances—maps. What good was an expedition with no gateway into the depths needing to be explored? Hawke had not known Varric for long, but it was long enough to realize that Varric already had a plan—and he delivered: a Grey Warden in Kirkwall. Hawke was surprised at the news; she thought they had all died in The Blight, at Ostagar. But Varric seemed sure and didn’t mention leads until he was sure they’d pan out. It looked like there was a busy day ahead of them in tracking down this Grey Warden.  
  
This Warden better be worth it, Hawke thought to herself as she just avoided another skirmish within the same hour. First there was Lirene. She had been in the woman’s shop before; after all Hawke still considered herself a Fereldan refugee making a home in Kirkwall. Of course she was going to be a regular at a shop that helped Fereldans. Lirene had always seemed so nice, but as soon as she mentioned the words, ‘Grey Warden’ she could feel herself being looked over in a new light by Lirene.   
  
Sure, the Warden in question was a healer, a mage outside of the circle—an apostate, Hawke swallowed the word bitterly. Like she would ever threaten a free mage with—Templars; Catalina tasted her own venom at the thought. Finally, Hawke was able to get the information from Lirene with the help of Bethany: Grey Warden Anders was in Darktown.  
  
Then after leaving Lirene’s she barely took ten steps and a group of armed men stood before her. Hawke had stared at the group, more in disbelief than fear—she had taken down more men heavily armed than the small ragtag band before her. Catalina did have to admire the Warden though if he could get people willing to protect him like this. At least Hawke didn’t have to draw her weapon, simply stating the truth—that she was Fereldan like them was enough for them to leave her be.  
  
And with those two skirmishes serving as warning, she was now traveling through Darktown to the place where the healer and former Grey Warden practiced his magic.


	3. Blushes and Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina Hawke and Anders first meet, and they leave impressions on each other.

Hawke’s eyebrows went up as she stared at the double doors before her. So close, she’s passed by these doors handfuls of time but only wondered once or twice about what was inside. That night was the first night she came through Darktown to this little corner. She was checking the area, scouting really, to see about the cellar door to Mother’s childhood home—the Amell estate. Hawke had wanted to make sure that whatever was behind those double doors so near, wouldn’t be a threat to her or Bethany when they would come again to clear out the slavers.  
  
She had gotten near the doors and looked at the locks, but before she even touched them, her senses began to tingle and she realized that the shoddy rusted human locks were hiding something magical. Her father’s training kicked in and she stepped away, not wanting to trigger anything more than what she may have done already. If it was slavers, she would have to deal with them quickly. But in the end, after a long night of continued watching and waiting in the shadows nothing happened, and the only movement she saw came in and out of the cellar door.  
  
Hawke shook her head, releasing the cramped tension that built up in her muscles from the memory of watching and waiting, learning routines of slavers to gain the satisfaction of clearing them out of Mother’s estate—the satisfaction of killing slavers. Hawke gave a small smirk--who knew she could become so bloodthirsty given the right circumstances?  
  
Bethany and Varric fidgeting beside her brought Hawke back to her senses. Varric’s hand went to Bianca while Bethany shifted from foot to foot. Neither of them liked being in Darktown. Hawke knew she probably shouldn’t like it either, but she felt the place had a certain charm—once you worked past all the desperation. Still, Hawke gave a reassuring glance to both of them and pushed the doors open.  
  
She glanced around the room as her little group moved forward. Hawke’s eyes caught the scene before her, a man standing over a child—concentrating as the magic flowed through him, following his direction in helping the child. She was captivated by the scene, though she didn’t know why. She’s seen magic more times than she could count—her father being a mage, and then her sister also being a mage. Something just seemed different, and almost awe worthy. Catalina tried to shake her senses free of the wonder that had taken over her mind and body as she became aware her muscles weren’t as tensed and ready as she would like them to be.  
  
The red amber haired mage finished weaving his magic, mending the boy. He sat up with the help of a woman beside him, maybe his mother. Hawke watched as the mage’s shoulders seemed to slump—he must be feeling the drain calling forth the mana from within. Looking around the clinic—more like the very large room—she saw different people lingering, resting easy with the healer’s help, on the cots and crates that made up the makeshift clinic. If he helped all of these lost souls today, he should be passed out cold. Catalina’s eyes grew wide beneath her helm—the sense of wonder making its way back into her mind, admiration starting to make her dark brown eyes glisten. Her lips started to part, to say something as her eyes found their way back to the healer. Hawke snapped to attention when she saw that the healer’s shoulders were no longer slumped, but were straight and tensed showing the man’s height that seemed to dwarf her own.  
  
His hand reached out and grabbed his staff; the mage quickly turning and facing them, staff ready, hand raised: “I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it?”  
  
Hawke’s muscles tensed ready to defend, two confrontations within an hour and now, now here she was with a mage threatening her. Hawke closed her eyes, laughing on the inside to keep from crying in frustration at this third confrontation. When she opened them and looked at the mage before her, her breath hitched; his voice rang commanding in her ears, and she couldn’t look away from his eyes. She could have sworn they faintly glowed blue. Hawke finally found her voice after what seemed like hours, but knew were no more than a handful of seconds.  
  
“We just came to talk,” Catalina hoped her voiced carried some hint of confidence—Hawke not her, not Catalina, answering the mage’s challenge. She raised her hands, hoping her showing of palms came across as the symbol of peace she meant it to be—a display, showing that she meant no harm as there were no weapons in her hands.  
  
Hawke’s head slightly leaned toward Varric, and he stepped up to speak, “We’re interested in getting into the deep roads. Rumor has it, you were a Warden; do you know a way?”  
  
At the word Warden, the healer was taken aback and became curious of the trio. Anders began to take in the group anew:  the dwarf who revealed their purpose, a young lady with dark hair who—Maker’s breath, a mage! She had a stave in her hand—leaning on it like it was a walking stick—being a mage he recognized a stave when he saw one, and that definitely was one. Ander’s eyes then fell on the one standing in front. A warrior in armor, his body tensed but again he glanced up at the mage the warrior was traveling with. She seemed at ease, so he forced himself to relax.  
  
“Did the blighted Wardens send you to take me back? I’m not going; the bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot; he hated the Deep Roads.” Anders turned slightly, lowering his stave, taking a step forward to regain his position—even if they did claim no harm, he wanted them to know that this was his place and they were trespassers.  
  
His eyes caught movement and he watched as the leader of the group lifted his hands to remove his helm. He found the gesture odd, seeing that the warriors he had known were either cold Templars or strict Wardens. It was so odd seeing a warrior showing civility, removing a piece of armor in front of a mage. He felt his eyes grow wide as he realized that the warrior in front of him was not a he, but a she. She rested her helm against her right hip; he swallowed a lump in his throat as he noticed the simple shake of her head—such a feminine gesture--trying to shift her unruly dark curly locks back into place but failing miserably.  
  
 _Beautiful_. Anders let the word dominate his mind.  
  
Anders felt the response to his thought, “ She is only a distraction.” Anders briefly closed his eyes as retort to the felt voice from within.  
  
“You had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-lot, in the Deep Roads?” Catalina couldn’t help but ask about this adventurous kitten. Hopefully, her voice seemed painted with incredulousness instead of the childlike glee she heard ringing in her ears.  
  
“He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once; he swatted the bugger on the nose—drew blood too. I had to give him to my Warden Com—to a friend in Amaranthine—the blighted Wardens said he made too soft.”  
  
Catalina noted how his voice seemed to soften at the thought of Pounce-a-lot—how he genuinely seemed sad that he had to leave the kitty behind. She shook her head, realizing that now was not the time to get lost in her thoughts. Taking a breath, Hawke refocused on their purpose—maps to the Deep Roads, a chance to keep Bethany safe for more than a day.  
  
“I need to know how to get into the Deep Roads. You can tell me willingly or not.” Hawke took a step forward. Her heart began pounding as Catalina quietly wondered at what had taken over her; she never behaved this way. She heard the small gasp Bethany tried to swallow at the surprise of her sister seemingly challenging someone needlessly. Still, Hawke stayed true and held the small piece of ground she had taken.  
  
“Don’t threaten me, little girl.” Anders took another step forward challenging the mysterious warrior in front of him.

Catalina was confused by the blooming blush she felt coloring her cheeks—she was a warrior and stood her ground. Why weren’t her muscles tensing, her mind preparing for battle? Instead of tensing, she felt her muscles give the ground she had so impulsively taken.  
  
She heard Anders continue, “You can’t imagine what I’ve come through to get here. I’m not interested…” Catalina Hawke looked Anders in the eyes briefly, before glancing down. He noticed the rosy hue of her cheeks, and the way she wouldn’t look into his eyes and stubbornly dug the toe of her right boot into the ground.  
  
 _Adorable, she is absolutely adorable._  
  
You are becoming easily distracted by this woman.  
  
Anders waved his hand in the air, as if erasing the words he just uttered and the reverberation of the deep timbre felt from the word, ‘distracted.’  
  
“Although, a favor for a favor…Does that sound like a fair deal?” Anders rocked onto the balls of his feet, raising his tall frame a little higher, willing the blushing woman to look at him again. “You help me, I help you?” Hope lit the woman’s face as he noticed the pink tip of her tongue dart out and wet her lips.  
  
Hawke leaned forward a little, “Help my expedition reach the Deep Roads, and I’ll do whatever you need.”  
  
 _Sweetheart, I could think of several things you can do for my needs._  
  
Your thoughts for her serve no purpose. You are allowing yourself to become distracted.  
  
Anders pulled himself back from his reckless thoughts. He needed to focus on getting Karl out of the Gallows, not on flirting with this woman. Quickly, he laid out the terms for his maps. She was going to help him get Karl. She seemed taken aback at first, her face hardening; and he steeled himself for her trying to get out of the deal. Instead, he noticed how even though she seemed so hard on the outside; her eyes seemed sympathetic and genuinely concerned for Karl’s well-being. Maybe it had something to do with the mage in her company; all he knew was that he felt satisfaction in knowing that this woman would be helping him free a close friend. They made their plans and the trio left—but then he heard the clink of her armor rushing back into the clinic.  
  
He was a bit bewildered, but his little mystery stood before him, removing her helm and extending her hand to him. He was shocked and didn’t take it immediately, and in his hesitation she looked at her gauntleted arm and exclaimed apologies as a rosy hue began to overtake her face once again, making it glow. He had to smile when she seemed to be confused as to what to do with her helm and gauntlet, ultimately deciding on holding her helm between her knees, so she could remove the gauntlet, and she again extended her hand. He quickly reached for it, noticing her rosy glow grow brighter.

“I’m Kitt--Hawke—Cat—Catalina Hawke.”

Anders could have sworn he felt a tremor in her hand as he took it. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating through her thinly gloved hand. Anders had an urge to brush her sheathed, warm fingers against his lips, but simply grasped her hand, taking liberty to brush his fingertips against her wrists, along the edge of her glove as he let her go.  
  
“Anders, apostate and healer.” He gave her a slight bow.  
  
Hawke wondered if he was mocking her, but she realized he was just returning her awkward courtesy. Catalina stared into Anders’ eyes—her brown eyes drinking in his golden brown, wonder and beginning desire making her eyes shine bright as she restored her armor. She took a few steps back, and then turned to go.

She opened the door to step out into Darktown, and paused to look over her shoulder—waggling her fingers she called to him, “I look forward to helping you, Grey Warden Anders.”  
  
Something shook Anders when he heard her call him Grey Warden—it wasn’t the usual dismay at being called out a Warden, the misery of returning to Grey Wardens so different than the ones he met—so different from the Warden-Commander, and her motley band of misfits he was first introduced to. Instead, Catalina Hawke caused a shiver to race along his spine,  the thrill of hearing her quiet voice laced with teasing as she placed title before his name, Grey Warden Anders.  
  
Anders thought about her visit and how she managed to carry herself so fiercely but showed such a softer side when he was discussing Karl with her. She had carried herself harshly, but then when she came in a second time—there was something different. It wasn’t just the teasing at the end but the whole idea of her returning, and then her less than graceful dealing of her helm and gauntlet. Anders gave a small smile as he remembered the hue that brightened her cheeks even more than they were already as he brushed her wrist with his fingertips. He began to wonder what else could make her eyes brighten and flush her face in such a manner. Catalina Hawke was definitely worthy of attention.  
  
Not only is she a distraction, but an inappropriate one.  
 _Spoilsport._  
  
Anders sighed in resignation and shook his head, trying to wipe away the image of Hawke from his mind and the feelings that she caused in him. He had to rescue Karl, and Karl was only the beginning.

 

 

Varric and Bethany stared at Hawke as she closed the door to the clinic. Catalina Hawke looked at both of them in the eye. She could read the disbelief of her last actions in their faces, and they could read her response—Don’t say a word. Hawke walked past her two companions; Bethany could only look at Varric as Hawke stalked past. Varric grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes in response. They followed Hawke, and she began to relax her muscles when she realized they weren’t questioning her or talking about her. Instead, Varric was teasing his “Lady” Sunshine.  
  
As she led the small party through Darktown, she began thinking about her actions. What had taken over her? Maker! She just acted like an idiot in front of Anders. This is why she stayed away from flirting with men—she was terrible at it and she knew it. She was clumsy and not very graceful. Catalina let out a small groan, and Bethany appeared by her side. She grabbed her sister’s arm, and thread it through hers. “It’s okay, you know. Liking someone. I think he liked you to.” Hawke could only stare at Bethany as she processed her sister’s last statement. This may be why she tripped over a deathroot plant as they were making their way out of Darktown. Bethany and Hawke both sighed; Catalina was utterly hopeless.  
  



	4. Cruelty and Chantry Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina Hawke and Anders help Karl escape.

That night did not go according to plan. Oh, Hawke, Bethany, Varric and Fenris met Anders outside of the Chantry just liked they had planned. Everything seemed simple until they actually found Karl. She noticed Anders’ sharp intake of breath, and she felt her own eyes grow wide as she realized that Karl had been branded—he was Tranquil. Karl’s voice was monotone and lifeless, and before Hawke could process just what he was saying Templars appeared. She had to get Bethany away from them, she had to make sure Bethany and Anders escaped. Anders’ reaction to the Templars was just as panicked but differed in severity.   
  
She didn’t know what type of magic he was trained in, nothing her father had ever taught her or Bethany about. She watched as he growled—almost in pain, and this blue light began to shine through him, the light appearing like traced lightning on his skin—the lightning seemed to ignite and consume Anders in blue flame. She jumped inwardly as she heard a voice roar, “You will never take another mage as you took him.”  
  
Catalina’s eyes wanted to grow as wide as saucers as she watched Anders challenge the Templars. Instead, she narrowed her gaze and reached for her blade. Catalina Hawke agreed with the roaring voice: No, the Templars would not take another mage tonight; she would make damn sure of it!  
  
She gave in to her fury, tapping into the primal strength of such a base emotion.  At the end of it, she wasn’t sure what happened, just that the bodies of Templars lined the upper floor of the Chantry. She nudged the body of a Templar Knight Lieutenant with the toe of her boot, noticing a piece of paper that was sticking out from part of his armor. Odd, she thought. She quickly grabbed the parchment and then looked to find Bethany and Anders. Bethany was fine, though her face seemed rather pale. Anders. Poor Anders, he would have seemed sheepish if he didn’t look so distraught.   
  
She drew closer to him as he confronted Karl. Suddenly, the mage with the brand was talking like a human being again—there was inflection and emotion. The monotone and lifeless eyes were gone, replaced with what may have been the man that used to be. Karl seemed as shocked as she was to be back. Anders muttered something about unusual circumstances, and Hawke tried to discreetly urge him to hurry. She didn’t want more blood—mage nor Templar--to flow tonight.  
  
Her attention was drawn to Karl when he mentioned what it was like to be Tranquil—“You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the color, all the music in the world gone...I’ll never be whole again.”

To Catalina, what Karl was describing was a living horror.   
  
Calling that experience tranquil seemed like a cruel joke, and maybe that is what it was meant to be—a cruel joke for a horrible action justified in the name of Andraste. Both Catalina and Bethany realized that this is what Mother and Father were protecting them from, what Catalina was now trying to protect Bethany from—a living fate worse than death. Catlina heard the despair in Karl’s voice as he started to feel himself fade and become nothing more than the shell of a man. The man himself been pushed back into the hell of gray. She saw Anders waver, and although she could have offer to do it herself, her instincts—the same ones she felt watching Aveline with Wesley-- told her she shouldn’t.   
  
Making her voice as kind as she could, she whispered “My sister calls being made Tranquil a fate worse than death.”

Bethany nodded her head ever so slightly in agreement and acknowledgement.

Hawke looked up into Anders’ distraught eyes. “Give him peace," she was only voicing everyone’s thoughts, letting her voice and lips reiterate Karl’s plea. But it was almost as if her plea granted permission for action.

Anders lowered his eyes, voicing apologies to Karl. Anders took several steps forward, and saw the man he used to know disappear into the automaton that now stood before him. He said goodbye as the steel bit into the body of the man that was his friend.


	5. First Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina and Anders discuss what happened in the Chantry.

The group left the Chantry in a silence, a small solemn funeral procession for the mage who died under the macabre guise of tranquility. Catalina’s feet felt heavy with each step, she felt the chill of fear’s tendrils trying to become pronounced on her skin, in her mind and heart. The Rite of Tranquility was supposed to be a kind, sympathetic alternative to killing. An involuntary shudder seized her as she imagined Father’s eyes staring at her blankly, her face started to go pale as she saw Bethany’s lifeless face before her.   
  
Catalina’s left hand balled into a fist. She forced herself to unclench her fingers, and removed her right gauntlet. Her fingers dug at her hip, seeking the pocket she had hidden there, between the plates of her armor. Her small fingers removed what seemed to be a coin, dark and grimy with use. She pressed it against the palm of her thinly gloved hand; as she walked, she pressed the coin so deeply into her palm causing the metal to bite into her flesh even through her gloves, the ones she wore that were designed to protect her hands from the harsh metal of her gauntlets. The small procession, silent as the death that they left behind, finally crossed the threshold into Darktown.  
  
Catalina’s nimble fingers worked the coin into her glove, sliding the metal between her glove and the skin of her palm as she put her gauntlet back on. Gangs roamed everywhere at night, but it seemed Darktown was a spot of high preference for their actions. She wanted comfort, but she needed to be prepared. Knowing that need was greater than want; she had to prepare herself for battle and so put her protection back into place.  
  
They all marched in to Anders’ clinic. Catalina allowed her muscles to relax to grant them rest for a minute before she disappeared into Darktown again. First, there were matters to address—namely, Anders’ unusual magic. Catalina gave an inward jerk as her body stopped short of tripping over a crate, her clumsy tendency breaking through her mind’s dark reverie.   
  
“That wasn’t normal magic you just did, was it?” It was more of a statement than a question towards Anders.

Hawke removed her helm, wanting her eyes to be able to see everything—hints, tells, and in truth Anders himself. Catalina began to nervously chew the inside of her lip--of course She knew it wasn’t normal magic; she may not be a mage herself but she was exposed to magic and even taught by her mage father how to defend against magic. Catalina could guess things about Anders’ magic, but she wanted to give him a chance, an opportunity to speak for himself. She found herself concerned for him, holding her breath and using the inside of her gauntlet to press the token in her palm further into her flesh.   
  
“I--, this is hard to explain,” Anders began. “When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends. And he recognized the injustice that mages face in Thedas every day.”   
  
Bethany and Varric stayed quiet behind her, Fenris seemed more fidgety than normal. Hawke called on what she had learned and couldn’t clearly find anything about spirits—her mind only brought forth mental notes of demons taking possession of mages. Well, that explained Fenris’ anxious movements. Hawke knew she should be frightened—at the very least, worried-- but couldn’t imagine this man standing in this makeshift free clinic was some sort of voidsent abomination.  
  
“And that’s… different than a demon?” She hoped his explanation would make her feel less guilty about her lack of fear.   
  
“Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues. Spirits of compassion, fortitude…justice. They are the Maker’s first children, and they have all but given up on us.”   
  
Catalina caught the rise and fall of Anders’ voice, its tone as he named spirits—and the pause he gave before he named the last virtue. She had never taken the Chantry’s lessons to heart—after all, they were part of the cause as to why she had this constant fear of discovery. Spirits versus demons oddly made some sort of connection with her.  
  
“This spirit sounds like a useful friend to have.”   
  
“He was far better to me than I have been to him.” Anders’ tall frame slumped lower, making him look tired and vulnerable. “To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him…We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But…I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he…changed.”   
  
Anders couldn’t bear to look Catalina Hawke in the eye. He corrupted a spirit of _virtue_ ; he felt as if he would corrupt this woman in front of him—her face holding no fear of him or his secret. Anders would swear she was concerned for him—no, it had to be for her sister; that’s it, Hawke was afraid that somehow he would harm her sister and so that was the true reason for the concern filling her big brown eyes.   
  
“So, you have this spirit of justice living in your head?”   
  
Anders didn’t want to explain anymore, but he wanted to gain Catalina’s trust—to see if she would smile at him again. “It’s not like that. He’s gone now. He’s part of me. It’s not like we can…have a conversation. I feel his thoughts as my own. Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where I end and he begins.”   
  
Even though Anders felt so tired, so drained of energy, drained of mana and heavy under the weight of emotion of the night’s occurrences and his revelation; Anders straightened his shoulders and pushed himself to his full height. He wouldn’t be broken by Templars, or by the rejection of this woman in armor looking up at him. He searched for the hatred or the pity in her eyes but found them soft with only concern.  
  
“I’m sorry. This is obviously difficult for you.” Catalina hoped that her voice comforted Anders. He had begun to look at her like he was afraid of her—afraid of Catalina Hawke. Sure, Catalina made sure that Hawke became a name that made others think twice of accosting her or her family. But, she never wanted to make Anders afraid.  
  
And Anders was afraid, not of her—in truth, he saw her as so short and petite, and—innocent. Anders felt the word and its rightness from within.  
  
She has an air of innocence  
 _Yes._  
  
Catalina Hawke was all of these things and it made it hard to believe that she was the same warrior that helped take down the Templars in the Chantry. Her face looked so young when she let the hardness fade from her features.   
  
Anders was afraid at what she stirred in him, afraid of how he remembered who the man Anders was before merging with Justice. If only—but no.  
  
“I thought I was helping my friend. He would have died, I guess. …If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages suffered.” Heartache crept into his voice.

Catalina wanted to reach for him, to comfort him but before she could say anything, Bethany put her voice forward. “You wanted to help a friend. Surely no harm can come of that.”   
  
“I wish I still had your innocence. There was too much hatred in me. Justice thought he would overcome that. But my anger…when I see Templars—things that have always outraged me but I could never do anything about—He comes out, and he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of Vengeance and he has no grasp of mercy.” Anders wanted Hawke to scream at him, to look at him like that elf was looking at him. But no, she stood there, listening to his words; her demeanor kind and gentle.   
  
Catalina Hawke was paying attention to what he said, as if he mattered. “Can Justice ever be separated from you?”   
  
“I don’t think so. The only way a spirit has ever been separated from a living host is by its death. The curse is of my own making. All I can do now is hope to control it.”   
  
“Can you bring him out at will?”   
  
“No.” Anders shook his head, “He comes only when I’ve lost all power over myself. It’s a madness, a frenzy. I only find out—“His voice caught on the word he was about to say; ‘after’—he forced it from his mouth, the weight and importance of one little word felt almost like a confession, “--after--what I might have done.”   
  
Catalina Hawke took a moment to process everything Anders just confessed. A madness and frenzy. It wasn’t the same—she knew that, but she tried to relate to those ideas. She had training as a Beserker—she called upon madness to help her do damage and fight—to further her ability as a warrior. Even more, she also trained as a Reaver—she fed off of blood and frenzy, her own and her opponents. It was easy to get lost, to become confused in the primal energy only to awaken in the end seeing what violence the force you relinquished your mind to was capable of. If she were being honest with herself, she was scared--of her abilities and of herself.   
  
After every battle, she had the feeling and need to comfort herself. She hated the weakness of this need and desire, yet it was as much a part of her as her armor was. Again, Catalina pressed the metal into her palm. She began to hang her head and surrender to the guilt and shame: the violence, the blood spilt and taken; and worse, the primal satisfaction that she felt immediately after that faded into misery all too soon.   
  
The coin bit harder into her flesh, she felt the sharp pain of metal biting skin; Catalina Hawke shook her head--No, she wasn’t a monster, a terror or an abomination; she fought only when there were no more options left. Catalina looked up at Anders, her eyes searching his face and could only find a jaw tight with—it wasn’t anger, it was—guilt and shame. She looked around the clinic, makeshift but one open to all those who needed help. No; just as she wasn’t a monster, this man, ex-Grey Warden wasn’t a monster either.  
  
Catalina licked her lips before speaking, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

She tilted her head up, wanting him to see the sincerity in her eyes, wanting him to ask anything of her. Catalina’s eyes began to widen as she caught her thought: Andraste’s tits, Kitty…you need to get a hold of yourself.   
  
Anders relaxed his body, not having realized he had kept it so tensed during his confession. “You’re the first one I’ve ever told this. Thank you for not running away.” Catalina read his eyes, seeing relief and sadness within. “My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me…I will be waiting here.”   
  
Anders held and peered into Catalina Hawke’s eyes as he offered himself and his services to her. He noticed that beautiful blush of hers coloring her cheeks. Anders felt a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth, So, Catalina Hawke was a naughty tease with a dirty mind.  Hawke just gave a nod of her head and left the clinic, Bethany, and Varric quickly following while Fenris lagged behind to give Anders a threatening snarl.


	6. Comfort in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina Hawke tries to find comfort.

“An abomination,” Fenris spit the words out sitting at the end of the table in The Hanged Man. It was shortly after they had left Anders’ clinic, and Varric had so graciously offered to buy everyone a pint; he knew that at least he needed one after the ordeal and revelation they went through.  
  
Hawke turned and glared at Fenris, “If that’s what you want to believe, fine. But watch what you say—I told you who I traveled with and I’ll be damned if you bring any unwanted attention to us.”

Fenris snarled at Hawke, and she saw his muscles tense. He considered stalking away, but realized that she was only offering that thing what she offered him—a chance to be accepted by someone. Their eyes met in understanding, and the pirate, Isabela, took the opportunity to break in.  
  
“So, pigeon—was he a sexy monster? Bethany says he is quite a bit taller than you, but has everything you like.” Isabela whispered in Catalina’s ear as she stole a glance at Hawke’s cards.  
  
 “Isabela! I'm out…I swear, you cheat when you deal so why even bother to steal a glance at my cards?”  
  
Isabela gave a laugh as she went around the table and seductively perched herself next to Fenris, leaning over in just the right way for him to get a good view of her cleavage. “Because, pigeon, you have to make sure you don’t get rusty in any kind of tricks.” She winked at Hawke, as she tilted her head towards Fenris.  
  
“Somehow, I think you turn more than enough tricks to keep yourself well lubricated.” Isabela slapped her hand against Fenris’ thigh in mock shock and left it there. Varric had a good laugh at the elf’s retort to Isabela’s wink.  
  
Catalina smiled at the group watching them continue their game of Wicked Grace. She pulled out her grimy and slightly bloody ‘coin’, and began to roll it up and down her knuckles absentmindedly. She knew it was no good to lie to Isabela, they had become best friends since she helped her in her “duel” against her former associate, Hayder. Hawke let out a sigh of defeat, “Yes, I do find him—“  
  
Isabela looked up at her, using the opportunity to slide her hand further up Fenris’ thigh. “Sexy? Delectable? Delicious?” With each word her hand slid higher and higher, teasing Fenris and feeding into Isabela’s voracious desire to get laid.  
  
“I find him interesting.” Catalina had intended to leave it at that, but then Bethany and Varric spoke up.  
  
“You should have seen her, Rivani, when we first went into the clinic. She was smitten and—“ Hawke shot he dwarf a nasty look, and Bethany’s voiced finished his sentence, “she didn’t know what to do with herself. She went back to shake his hand…” Hawke stood and gave her sister a glare, but Bethany merely paused to stick her tongue out at her sister and then continued on to fill Isabela in on the details.  
  
“Fine. Gossip among yourselves. I’m going for a walk.” Catalina stood up, tossing the coin into the air with a flourish, and then making it disappear into her palm. She left her friends behind to cackle and gossip like hens. She left Varric’s room, and continued to make her way out of the Hanged Man.  
  
She never did like it that she was so horrible in flirting, in not having a poker face. Most of the time that’s why she was more than happy to wear her helm even when she wasn’t fighting. Catalina let out a long sigh—she had left her helm in Varric’s quarters. She wasn’t going back, not when they were more than likely discussing her and her love life.

Love life, she thought with a sad laugh—she did not have one nor did she ever think she wanted one; until now.  
  
She was hopeless; besides, everyone noticed Bethany before her. She dressed in plate armor, while Bethany walked around in tights and a tunic showing cleavage. Nothing like Isabela’s but, Bethany was the more feminine of the two Hawke sisters and it seemed like that is what everyone was attracted to. Catalina shook her head, not like she wasn’t feminine; she smirked as she thought of Aveline. She just didn’t show it, or advertise it. She had to be ready to fight to protect her sister and her mother; and now her friends. Hawke was a dedicated warrior and dressed like one.  
  
She made peace with herself on the decision that she just had a silly crush that she would eventually get over, and that if Anders ended up with Bethany, Isabela, Fenris or even—she grinned at the thought of tall Anders with the dwarf Varric—with any of her friends, she would be happy for him. She wanted _them_ to be happy; she corrected herself, she wanted all of her friends to be happy. Besides, they had just met earlier that day.  
  
“Oh Kitty, what are you going to do with yourself?”, she muttered as she actually looked up to see where her feet had directed her.  
  
Hawke was in front of the clinic doors. She had every intention to turn on her boot heel and run away from the doors, but instead, she found herself testing the clinic door. It was early morning, though you wouldn’t know it here in Darktown. It had earned its name for a reason. She was surprised to find the doors unlocked; and pushed one of them open. Hawke became worried, and paused long enough to pull a small blade that she kept in her boot from its sheath.  
  
“Anders?” She whispered into the room, dimly lit from dying fires. She saw a figure sitting on a crate in the shadows. Hawke raised herself to her full height, confidence making her appear taller than she actually was. She stalked her way towards the figure. It looked up, eyes glowing blue. Catalina exhaled, and she paused to sheath her blade. “Anders, I called but you didn’t answer.”  
  
Why is she here?  
 _I don’t know, but don’t do anything stupid._  
You cannot afford a distraction at this time.  
 _Did you ever think that sometimes, mortals need distractions or else they’d go crazy?_  
  
Anders watched as Hawke came into his clinic; her stalking figure almost feline. He had to admire her resolve, she had no answer from him but still she continued into the clinic. Anders smirked as he watched her straighten to her full height. She barely came up to his shoulders, yet when Hawke stalked with confidence, she made herself appear taller.  
  
Catalina’s stalk eased into a shy gait as she closed the distance between her and Anders. He still hadn’t answered her, but she saw him stand. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to leave?” Catalina paused mid-step, realizing her intrusion.  
  
The light seemed to brighten in a flash and she turned her head and shut her eyes from the sudden brightness in the dark. She opened her eyes and let out a small surprised gasp as she turned her head back, feeling herself crash against someone. Hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her. Catalina looked up as her eyes recovered from the flash, meeting Anders’ tired but caring ones.  
  
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  
Catalina shook her head, “You didn’t scare me; surprised, maybe.” Catalina shrugged her shoulders and looked away. Anders took the liberty and brushed his fingers against her face, sliding them down a cheek to rest under her chin, turning her face towards him as if to hold her there so he could gaze into her eyes. Catalina again saw a flash of blue, dim but there, and Anders quickly let his hand fall and released her.  
  
“Are you hurt? Do you need healing?” Anders felt the words automatically leave his mouth. He had to be careful. Catalina Hawke’s kindness was just that, kindness—not flirtations. He would never let it be flirtatious. He closed his eyes at his decision and waited for her response. He heard the scraping of metal against wood. He turned and looked towards Hawke. She had removed her gauntlets, and placed them on a crate that was close by. Catalina looked up and shyly smiled at him from across the small distance.  
  
“I’m fine, Anders.” She began her way towards him; closing that distance and reached her hand towards his arm. Her fingers brushed against his upper arm, “I came to see how you are doing. If there’s anything I can do to help you.” Catalina began to play with her lower lip as she waited for his response, wondering if she had overstepped her bounds.  
  
“I’m alright.” The words caught in his throat, and came out gruff. She couldn’t help it, he needed this—she knew it intuitively, felt it instinctively and maybe she needed it too.  
  
Before she could think it through and talk herself out of it, Catalina wrapped her arms around Anders and engulfed his tall frame with her smaller one in a swift but heartfelt hug. She felt Anders’ body stiffen in surprise, but almost as quickly he began to relax. His left hand placed itself at her hip, while his right came up and stroked her hair as she rested her face against his chest.  
  
Wrapped in the safety of his arms, Hawke felt something release that she hadn’t felt in a long time—fear of safety. The feeling of safety hit Hawke like a hard blow, leaving a crack behind where Kitty reached through--a side that she had thought long buried. The feeling was too much to fight against and Kitty made the confession Hawke hadn’t realized needed to be made.  
  
“I’m sorry, Anders.” He felt her shudder, and swallow a sob. “I am so sorry that I didn’t help you in time. That I couldn’t save Karl.”  
  
Anders was taken aback. Hawke was apologizing to him? He pulled her to him tighter, hand still on her hip, his right pressing her upper body against him. She felt the vibrations of his voice rumble in his chest, as he whispered comforting nothings to her as she cried for her failure, as she voiced her pain at his loss of Karl and let her tears fall to serve as proof.  Anders simply held Catalina as she drained the sorrow from her heart and mind. As he felt the tears drain from her, and her small armored frame gave up the last of her sobs, he began to let her go from his embrace. He had known this woman for less than twenty four hours, and she was crying for failing him and for failing Karl?!  
  
He pushed her a little further away, wrapping his fingers around her chin, lifting her face to him. “Hawke, I—“ What could he say to her? He blamed her for nothing, and he felt his heart thundering—this couldn’t be—how could he care so much for someone he just met? Her eyes widened at his silence, but his fingers held her still. Her hitched breath brought him back from his thoughts. “Hawke, you have nothing to be sorry for.” At his words, she lowered her gaze away from him.  
  
“Look at me, Cat…Look at me, Hawke” he whispered as he lifted her chin a little higher than what could be comfortable. Anders noticed a quick flash of defiance brighten in Hawke’s eyes--she grabbed Anders’ wrist, her small slender fingers wrapping around him. Hawke’s instinct was to jerk Anders down so his face could meet her elbow. Kitty’s instinct was different; her response to him was not violent but rather gentle.  
  
Anders watched the bright blaze of defiance that had lit Hawke’s eyes changed into a softer golden glow. Hawke’s fingers released some of their grip on his wrist; she still held on to him but was steadying herself as she raised herself up on the balls of her feet. Anders could tell that Hawke wasn’t used to what she was doing—he wasn’t even sure what to call it, but he felt it stir something deep within that he thought was long buried and forgotten.  
  
“You are at fault for nothing, Catalina. Karl was gone days before we met--probably when the letters stopped. You did nothing wrong. Do you understand me?” Kitty stared into Anders’ eyes, and saw no blame there. She nodded her head as much as she could, and Anders lowered her chin as she lowered herself back down to the soles of her feet.  
  
His fingers came up and stroked her cheek, tracing the paths of fallen tears. He released his grip on her hip, and turned. Without looking, he grabbed Hawke’s hand and he led her to the crate she had seen him sitting on. He placed her in front of him, and let her take a seat on the crate. Anders sat on the back of his heels in front of her.  
  
“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you know.  Not the other way around,” Hawke said with a small embarrassed laugh.  
  
He smiled at her. “Seeing you sneak in through the clinic doors, calling for me did bring me comfort.” He pushed a stray stand of curls over her ear.  
  
“Really?” She looked at him timidly, a grin crossing her face as he simply nodded. It was now her turn to glow from the warmth crossing her skin. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She began to chew her lower lip, “I know today had to be incredibly hard. I wanted you to know that--” she smirked at the irony of it all now, “--that it wasn’t your fault and I think you did the right thing.”  
  
Catalina dared to reach out and touch Anders’ cheek with her hand. Anders’ turned his cheek into her palm. She felt a small tear make its way down his face. She wiped it way with her fingers, bringing the wetness to her lips in what almost seemed like a kiss. Anders let a sigh escape his lips, and the air seemed to crackle between them. He quickly stood, making her seem so small as he towered above her.  
  
Catalina Hawke stood letting the feeling of being so small fall from her. She rested her fingers against Anders' stubbled chin causing him to look down on her. “I’ll always be here for you, Anders.”

His silence made Catalina feel as if she were being dismissed which caused her to prickle; but respecting Anders and the man he was, she made her way from the crate she sat on-- away from Anders-- towards the crate holding her removed pieces of armor. The silence was thick with emotion as she put her protection back into place.  
  
Hawke headed towards the door, as she reached to pull it open, Anders whispered. “Your tears for Karl—your tears for me, have made me feel more than I have ever felt since being found a mage.” His head and voice dropped—his voice a mixture of sigh and thought, “I’m not worthy of those tears.”  
  
Hawke couldn’t make out everything he said, but she caught the pain, and the raw sincere emotion of those precious words. She recognized the loneliness feeding into the pain and it was then Kitty decided: She wouldn’t let him be alone anymore, this she promised herself. She turned her head, giving him a shy little smile in the dark. Her voice clear and full of the promise she sealed in her heart, she called out to him, “Get ready to see me around, Warden.”  
  
Anders’ head snapped up to see her walk out his doors. Justice let his distrust and warning flood Anders’ mind and body. Still, Anders grinned into the dark, and let out a laugh as he began to stoke the fires--though they did not light the room as brightly, or warm Anders as quickly and deeply as Catalina Hawke did. Hawke had many sides to her, he was sure; he had seen Hawke when she first walked through his doors, another side when she hurried back to simply shake his hand, and now, now this small act of—intimacy—revealed a hidden treasure buried within her. She intrigued him, and he had a feeling if he didn’t try to figure her out, he would go mad sooner than expected.


	7. "Here be Dragons..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promises were made to keep, or are they made to be broken? Catalina needs some healing.

Days passed before Hawke passed through the clinic doors again. Each day since their first, Anders had hoped that Hawke would stay true to what she had said—that she would be around him; come to see him. Anders hadn’t seen Hawke since that night, but he and Varric and Isabela had spent some time together. Varric wanting to hear tales of his days with the Wardens, and Isabela liking to flirt with almost everyone, and especially liking Varric’s generosity of buying rounds. However, it was a week before Catalina Hawke limped through the doors of the clinic with Isabela. Varric and Bethany followed closely behind.  
  
Anders took in the party as he checked on a patient. He wanted to hide his excitement and displeasure with Hawke. Anders continued on to the next patient, waiting for the group to come further into the clinic before he would step away and let one of his volunteer assistants continue. Isabela, Varric and Bethany seemed tired, but no worse for wear. Varric and Isabela were mocking the latest drunk who tried to take a piece of Isabela. Bethany seemed tired and leaned on her stave for support. Every now and then, Isabela would reach out and steady herself on Bethany’s arm, and Bethany would give a small smile.  
  
Anders looked over Isabela again, and Isabela noticed his attention. She stood and posed and preened for him, loving the attention. Anders rolled his eyes and gave her an amused smile. Isabela, the fallen queen of the eastern seas—she seemed familiar to him. He had felt that way when he first met her, and the feeling grew stronger with each meeting. He had decided that he would ask her about it at some point, when he noticed that Hawke was glancing between Isabela and Anders. He looked at Hawke and noticed her small but full mouth was crushed into a tight line. Isabela, who—Anders now realized--had been supporting and helping Hawke walk into the clinic, held Hawke’s arm to help her sit on a crate and Hawke seemed to almost jerk it away.  
  
“Calm down, pigeon. You know you need to see an actual healer after that lesson in flying.” Isabela managed to sound both teasing and soothing to Hawke as Hawke perched on the crate.  
  
“I had to take the lesson or else you would have. Let’s not forget, I was dressed for the occasion instead of forgetting my pants.” Hawke responded with a snort. Isabela’s eyebrows shot up at Hawke’s retort. Anders wondered if Hawke was jealous of Isabela for some reason, because her actions and response to Isabela seemed harsh and unlike her.  
  
You have not known her long enough to know what she is like. _No, I haven’t known her long—but sometimes you can just tell things about a person._  
  
 _Why would Hawke be jealous of Isabela?_  
Perhaps it was the way you were blatantly ogling that woman.  
  
“Well Blondie, you going to help our bird, or shall we help her fly the coop?” Varric joked, attempting to diffuse the tension radiating from Hawke; hoping that the healer stepping in would somehow make things better.  
  
Your attention is wandering. She is injured and requires aid, yet you stare at the other woman who is not injured.  
  
Guilt followed Justice’s observation of how Anders the healer missed someone who needed his aid. The guilt felt heavier as he knew it was Catalina that was injured and he had missed it.  
  
Perhaps you did not look forward to seeing her as much as you thought.  
  
Ignoring Justice, Anders made his way towards the group and Hawke. “What happened?”  
  
Hawke’s voice was laced with ice as she said, “I was dragged here to waste your time, since I’m perfectly fine.” She turned her dark eyes and looked up at Anders who towered above her. Hawke moved to stand, but as soon as weight was put on her left leg, she winced in pain and felt herself begin to fall. She put her hands out flat as she tried to catch herself from the fall, her small frame crashing down on her injured wrist and hand causing her to crash down on her forearms.  
  
Bethany and Isabela quickly bent to help her, but Hawke stubbornly pushed their hands away. She hung her head and her dark disheveled curls fell like a veil, covering her face and anger in her eyes. She hated being weak and needing help which is why she hating asking for it. Hawke wanted to leave and uttered, “Bethany has already taken care of me.”  
  
Bethany looked at Anders as she again told Hawke the reason as to why they needed to be at the clinic. “You know I’m not really trained in healing. You need to be checked by Anders, it’s one of his specializations.” Anders could see that she was worried for her sister. He nodded at Bethany, and the trio took it as a sort of dismissal—they went to find their own seats at the clinic while they waited for Hawke.  
  
Catalina heard them walk away, and peeked through the veil of her hair. Someone was still there; Hawke tightened her jaw in panic as she realized it was going to be Anders. She lifted her head, and the look in her eyes and tense muscles announced that she was not going to be a kind and willing patient.  
  
“Hello, Anders. I apologize for these three wasting your time.” She jerked her head towards her three companions, grouped together in a corner. “Now, if you’ll kindly help me up, I’ll just be on my way.” Hawke sat up straight, resting the forearm of her injured hand in her lap. She grimaced as the swollen wrist touched against her leg. Anders squatted before her, and held out his hand. She placed her good hand in his and was about to use the connection to push herself off of the crate when he dropped her hand. Hawke stared at Anders, as he stared into her eyes. Each was testing each other, his honey colored eyes challenging her brown pools to defy his request. Again, he held out his hand. Hawke kept her eyes focused on Anders as she steadied herself. She knew she needed help, Bethany did know a little bit of healing, but that was it—just a little bit.  
  
Still, Catalina Hawke’s pride and stubbornness were putting up a strong resistance to being weak. She had rough scars where her skin and tissue had grown tough because of the fact that she did not seek healing for them. She left Anders’ hand alone, and forced herself up, most of her weight bearing on her ‘good’ leg. She kept her arm wrapped around her waist. Even though she was a good head shorter than Anders at her full uninjured height, she held his eyes as she gave him a satisfied smirk.  
  
“Ever the gentleman, Warden,” Hawke said with the fire of defiance dancing in her eyes.  
  
This little spitfire was going to test Anders’ resolution and strength. A small smirk formed on Anders face as Catalina attempted to put a little more weight on her injured leg so she could make herself stand a little taller. She winced as her leg protested against the strain; her hand reached out to grab the closest thing—she soon had a fistful of Anders’ coat in her hand. She looked up at him, shock temporarily taking the place of defiance in her eyes. Catalina released her grip, smoothing his rumpled coat, and keeping her palm pressed against his chest she meant to push herself back on her two feet, willing herself to stand through the pain.  
  
Enough, she wastes our time.  
 _No, she’s just being Hawke._  
  
Anders placed his hand over hers, his fingers dwarfing hers. She closed her eyes as she felt warmth from his skin against the back of her hand. Catalina took a deep breath, and leaned on Anders, relieving the pain that had been screaming up her leg.  
  
Anders felt Hawke’s stubbornness start to fade. “Let me help you.” He realized he had chosen the wrong words, when he felt her body stiffen and she started to tug her hand out from under his.  Anders let out an exasperated sigh, “You need to be in top shape to help your sister, and earn coin for your expedition.”  
  
Catalina Hawke stopped her struggle, knowing full well that he was right—there was no way she would be any good to her sister the way she was at the moment. Anders felt her body start to slump in defeat, and he shifted her body to where she would slump against his arm. He picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Isabela and Bethany moved as to if to go to Hawke’s aid, but he shook his head no at them. Kitty turned her head into his chest, not wanting to see the pity in any of their eyes.  
  
Anders took her to one of his cots; he could tell two of her injuries already, but he needed to know what happened to find out what specific things to look out for. He looked down at his charge: she seemed so small. It was only then that he noticed she wasn’t in her full armor.  
  
She was wearing supple but sturdy leather leggings. She had boots laced up to her calves, with one untied so that it fit loosely against her leg and foot. She had on a simple long sleeve linen tunic with a leather corset matching her leggings. As Anders laid Catalina on the cot he intended to use as an examination table, he let himself appreciate how well the corset fit Hawke.  The corset seemed to be made of the same leather that her leggings were in. It seemed to have been shaped for Hawke, from how the flare teased the beginning curve of her hips, to how it teased and hid her bust.  
  
She is your patient, not someone for you to lust over.  
  
Hawke took in a sharp breath as if to reiterates Justice’s point. She had kept her eyes closed since he had placed his hand over hers. The chill of not being held against him took over her body, and she opened her eyes. She caught his eyes roaming her body, and she felt her skin start to flush. Anders looked at Hawke’s face, and when he met her eyes he felt heat crawl up the back of his neck as he realized she had caught him gazing at her.  
  
“What happened?” Anders went to the foot of the cot and began to remove Hawke’s boot so he could examine her leg.  
  
“I had a job to do—some of the Bone Pit’s workers were missing.” Hawke made a noise as Anders worked the boot off of her leg. She leaned on her forearm, her hand grabbing the edge of the cot. Her nails dug into the wood, as she held on, waiting for the shot of pain to subside.  
  
Anders grimaced; he hadn’t meant to hurt her but her stubbornness most likely added to her injury. He ran his hand along her calf, and looked up at her when he noticed the small blade strapped around her calf. She smiled and shrugged, “Never hurts to keep one handy  
  
“You need to be careful; you don’t want to hurt yourself with your own blade.” Anders noted that no bones were broken; her ankle was swollen and sprained—easy enough to take care of. They fell into a silence as Anders took care of her ankle. It was then they Catalina remembered she wasn’t alone with him; they were in his clinic after all. She felt her face grow hot, and shifted on her arm a little.  
  
“Hold still,” Anders ordered Hawke as he held her ankle in his hands and looked up at her. She looked nervous, and maybe embarrassed. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I don’t know; you’re the healer.” Catalina responded with a nervous laugh—she didn’t want to admit that she had fallen into a fairytale daydream of her prince sweeping her off her feet and was waiting for him to ravish her.  
  
Anders narrowed his eyes at Hawke, and then looked down to complete his work. He finished looking over her legs, and lower body. He then made his way to checking her upper body. He felt around her sides, his hands hesitant to feel around her waist. Anders wondered if she could tell he was a bit shaky—Hawke wasn’t bare before him but she was in the most state of undress he had ever seen her in. She was more beautiful than what he had imagined her to be, and he had a pretty good imagination. He made himself work quickly, and then moved on to her arms and took her injured one in hand.  
  
“So, how’s my pigeon?” Isabela leaned towards him, making sure her ample cleavage was on full display. Anders noticed Hawke turning her head away from watching the two of them.  
  
You will not be helping her.  
 _But I have to know._  
  
“You know Isabela, I keep thinking I know you from somewhere.” Anders began removing the cloth wrapped around Catalina’s hand and wrist.  
  
“Me? Hmm,” Isabela ran her eyes up and down Anders body. She gave him a wink, “You’re Fereldan, right? Ever spend time at the Pearl?”  
  
“That’s it!” He gave a laugh as he remembered the fun he had whenever he made it to The Pearl. “You used to really like that girl with the griffin tattoos, right? What was her name…?” Anders looked towards Hawke, her head still turned away. He felt her pulse racing as he held her wrist.  
  
“Oh yes, she was lovely—The Lay Warden.”  
  
“That’s right!” Anders grinned. He took a deep breath, and looked at Hawke as he asked, “I think you were there the night I—“  
  
“Oh!” Isabela exclaimed, “Were you the runaway mage who could do that electricity thing?--” She ran her eyes over Anders’ body and hands in new appreciation. “--That was nice.”  
  
Anders felt Isabela’s eyes but didn’t see them, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Hawke—he was watching and waiting to see what her reaction would be. Her face had slowly started to flush, her jaw was hard and set, while her lips where pressed together.  
  
“Please stop talking. Now.” Catalina let the irritation in her voice echo in her ears. Anders looked down at Hawke’s hand in his.  
  
“Yeah, Rivaini. If you keep distracting Blondie, it’s going to take forever for Hawke to get taken care of and I have a pint waiting for me at the Hanged Man.” Varric walked up beside Isabela, and nodded his head to the side.  
  
“Well, now you tell me! C’mon, let’s go. I’m sure Mr. Electricity here can make Hawke all better—in more ways than one” Isabela gave a wink and then grabbed Varric by the shoulder and the two walked towards Bethany. After exchanging a few words with her, Isabela and Varric left the clinic.  
  
Your exercise served no purpose. She is in pain and you stand here in almost delight.  
  
Anders wanted to roll his eyes at Justice, but instead tried to explain. _Sometimes--_  
  
Take care of her. She is in tears.  
  
Anders eyes grew wide and he looked up from Hawke’s hand and towards her face, Catalina had her head turned away from him but he could still see a tear shining on her cheek. “Hawke, are you alright?” His voice was quiet and heavy with concern laced with guilt.  
  
Kitty gave a sniffle. She did not look at him. “I’m fine. It’s just—“ Her mind raced to find an excuse for her girlish tears not wanting to embarrass herself or reveal any more weakness. “It’s just my—my ankle.”  
  
Anders grimaced. He had already taken care of her ankle. He got his answer, she was jealous; but it came with the price of hurting her. Stupid, Anders. He hung his head, and busied himself with taking care of her hand. There was a fresh scar, pink and newly formed—a semi-circle on her palm. As he finished unwrapping her bandage, he saw the wound on the side of her wrist. He hadn’t noticed any blood on the bandage, though the wound looked deep and angry.  
  
“How did this happen?” He began to concentrate and work on her wrist.  
  
“Dragons and dragonlings.” Bethany’s voice nearly made Anders jump. Catalina continued to say nothing. “We were taking care of the Bone Pit, and found they had opened a passage that led to a dragon’s nest. We had to fight a mature dragon in the end. Cat tried to hold it in place and away from Varric and me. It had turned and was going to get Isabela when—“  
  
“When your sister got its attention instead.” Anders finished for her. Bethany nodded her head, as she watched Anders work.  
  
“She was tossed, I thought she was going to stay down, but she got back up. She finished the fight, but nearly collapsed as we were walking away. Sister kept saying she was fine, but we knew that couldn’t be true. Varric and Isabela got her to sit down and remove some of her armor so she could be looked over. She didn’t want to remove her chest piece, but Isabela pointed at the holes the dragon’s teeth had punctured through the metal.”  
  
Anders looked towards Hawke’s chest and sides, but didn’t see blood. He hadn’t felt any injuries, did he miss something?  
  
Almost as if sensing his question, Bethany shook her head at him. “It bit through the metal, but amazingly couldn’t puncture through the metal and the leather. As for her wrist, part of what made that bad was she didn’t want to take off her gauntlets or gloves. Isabela almost had to pry them off of her. After seeing it, I did what I could to help stop the bleeding, but I knew it needed better care.” As Bethany finished telling Anders what had happened, Anders finished with Hawke’s wrist. Bethany caressed her sister on the head and then walked towards a crate by the door.  
  
“And this one?” Anders traced the scar on Hawke’s palm, “This isn’t from a dragon.” He continued to hold Hawke’s hand as she sat up, her legs coming between them as she turned to sit on the edge of the cot.  
  
She looked at him with a sad resignation in her eyes, “No, it’s not.”  
  
Anders held Hawke’s hand, palm up, “I could heal it for you, it’s still new enough that I can make the scar disappear.”  
  
Catalina began to pull her hand from him, “No, I want to keep it—I need to keep it.” Anders held on to Hawke’s hand, she gave a mock struggle, but he could tell she wasn’t really trying to get it back.  
  
“You know, you told me that I should expect to see you around, but it takes a dragon to get you back to my clinic.” Anders stood, and helped Hawke stand up. He shifted the hold he had on her hand, turning it to where he was grasping her fingers.  
  
Catalina was confused; maybe she was misreading Anders or just wanting what she couldn’t have. “I didn’t want to bother you or take you away from your clinic.” Catalina looked into Anders’ eyes, trying to find some answer there to help clear her confusion.  
  
“You are never a bother to me.” Catalina rewarded Anders with a small smile at his words. “Besides, is it a bother to keep promises?”  
  
Catalina flushed as she realized maybe Anders understood a little more than she thought. “Never. I always keep my promises.’  
  
“Well then, little girl--” Kitty’s eyes grew large, as a spark of desire began in the back of her dark eyes. Anders knew he had her attention, he could feel it radiating from her. He pulled her closer to him, “—make sure you keep the one you gave to me.” Anders lifted the back of her hand to his lips, and brushed his lips against her soft light caramel skin.  
  
Catalina stood almost completely entranced, which scared her. She squeezed his fingers, and stood on tip toe, and pulled him down to her. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Ever the gentleman, aren’t we Warden?” She turned her head quickly and pressed her lips against his cheek.  
  
She pulled away from him and grabbing her boot turned away from him; Anders looking after her in shock, watching her leave. After taking a few steps, Catalina pulled her boot on, and then bent over at the waist to lace it up. She wiggled a little to get her laces nice and tight, and she held her breath hoping she was catching Anders’ attention.  
  
Anders was watching—first to make sure she walked alright and didn’t have any more signs of pain. Then, oh Maker! Hawke bent over like that—Anders began to have a new appreciation for leather leggings. In her armor, Hawke looked proud, strong and like a warrior. Without her armor, she was still proud, and strong, she carried herself confidently--like a warrior. With her bending over like that—Anders became all too aware that Catalina Hawke was a woman—a woman with glorious curves.  
  
Catalina lifted her head, and looked back while she was still bent—she felt a warm glow of satisfaction when she saw that Anders seemed unable to look away from her. She slowly stood and slightly turned his direction. “Until later, Warden.” Hawke turned on her heel and quickly made her way out of the clinic. She blushed a hot red when Bethany met her outside the clinic doors with a grin on her face.  
  
“Well, sister seems like you’ll be making more trips to Darktown.” Bethany grabbed Hawke’s arm and threaded it through hers.  
  
Hawke’s face was still red; she could hardly believe what she did. “I don’t know, did you hear what he and Isabela were talking about?” Catalina again felt jealousy begin to prickle beneath her skin. “Who am I compared to her? She is Isabela—queen of the eastern seas: dark dusky beauty. I’m Hawke, clumsy warrior extraordinaire.”  
  
And seeming to prove her point, Hawke’s foot caught on the lip of the stairs and she started to fall. She let go of Bethany’s arm and stretched out her arms to catch herself. Hawke looked up from where she landed, at least the fall wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She turned to sit on the step she landed on, and looked at her palms.  
  
Bethany raised an eyebrow at Hawke. “Another trip to the healer?” Bethany asked teasingly.  
  
“Andraste—no, not after I made a fool of myself! You can take care of these scrapes when we get home.” Hawke stretched a hand towards Bethany, and she helped her sister up. “But first, let’s go and see if Isabela has left us anything to drink.”


	8. Stubborn Ideas

“I think I’m starting to fall for him.” Hawke gulped the last of her tea and slammed the cup down a little too hard.  
  
“Starting to fall…pigeon, you’re down for the count. The good man just has to realize it and get on top of you—“ Isabela began moving her hands to emphasize her point.  
  
“Izzy!”  
  
“What! Not like you haven’t thought of it yourself” Isabela replied with a wink.  
  
Hawke rolled her eyes. Why did she even try to have a normal conversation with Isabela? “It doesn’t matter,” she said with a sigh. “He likes Bethany not me.”   
  
“Sweet thing, you can’t be that oblivious. He’s interested in you, not your sister.”  
  
“I just told you that I left the two of them at Gamlen’s to talk. I’m sure Mother and Gamlen would think he was trying to take advantage of her if Havoc wasn’t by Bethany’s side.” Hawke had to smirk at the image of Anders trying to get close to Bethany and then having to face down a protective mabari.  
  
“I suppose a large over a hundred pounds mass of muscle would be a sufficient co—  
  
“Blondie? Why would Blondie go after Bethany when he’s been eyeing Hawke like he has?” Varric interjected as he saved Hawke from discovering a new shade of red to turn. “Really, Hawke—you can be so oblivious at times.”   
  
“If Varric can see he likes you, then you can be certain that mage-y is only after one bird—you, pigeon.”  
  
“I was trying to say that Hawke as so oblivious to the fact that you will bring sex up in any conversation if you can twist it your way.” Varric teased Isabela.  
  
Hawke just grinned and looked at her friends. She had apologized to Izzy several times after being so jealous that she had shared something with Anders. Isabela had just laughed and smiled at her, telling her it was so long ago and it was just the novelty of it all that she remembered. She was always shocked when her larger than life friend could be so calming and serious when she needed—just like when she told Hawke that she had no interest in Anders and he would be a fool if he went after someone besides her.  
  
That may have been the reason why she always seemed to make her way to The Hanged Man and Isabela whenever she found Anders at Gamlen’s talking to Bethany or after some time hanging around the clinic seeing if she could help Anders with anything. Could she be any more of a smitten schoolgirl?  
  
“Maker, she’s lost in thought again…Hawke! Quit fantasizing about him like that and just go and do it already!” Izzy tossed the latest novel she was reading at Hawke.   
  
Hawke dodged the lobbed novel with ease and merely stuck her tongue out at Isabela. “How about a game of Wicked Grace?”  
  
***  
  
She had spent several hours at The Hanged Man and had entered Gamlen’s sure that Anders would have been gone by now. Instead, she was surprised to find that he was still there. Bethany was seated by the fire and Anders was sitting on the floor next to her, Havoc was by Bethany’s feet, staring at Anders. When Hawke entered the house, Havoc turned and looked at her but stayed where he was until she called to him. With that, he ran to her and she squatted down to pet and praise the mabari.  
  
“Sister! Where have you been?” Bethany seemed a bit concerned but mostly irritated.  
  
“The Hanged Man with Isabela and Varric. Don’t tell me that you were lonely with such a handsome golden haired boy to keep you company?” Hawke kept petting Havoc but stared directly at Anders as she teased her sister. She had watched him stand up and wait for her sister to stand.   
  
Hawke felt Bethany’s hand on her shoulder; she leaned down and almost whispered, “It’s not my job to entertain your suitors.” Bethany glared at Hawke, before standing and saying, “Remember your manners, sister dear or mother will have a fit.”  
  
Hawke was surprised at Bethany’s words. Suitor? Hawke having a suitor?! Catalina would have been lost in confusion had it not been for Havoc leaving her and then licking and slobbering over Anders’ hand. She stood and watched amusedly as she saw Anders try to figure out what to do in that situation. “Havoc, sit!” Havoc sat facing Anders but turned and faced Catalina.  
  
She walked over, and patted the mabari lovingly. “Sorry, it just means he likes you.”  
  
“I wasn’t sure with the way he had been looking at me when I was talking to your sister.” Anders looked down at the mabari, and patted him on the head tentatively. Havoc gave a quiet bark for a dog his size, and stared at Anders happily. Hawke watched as Anders fidgeted in place.  
  
“Stop looking at me! I’m really not use to this open slobbery affection.” Anders scratched between Havoc’s ears and then stood to his full height. “A real pet ignores you until it wants something, and then sits on your head or something. He doesn’t slobber on you or look at you adoringly like that.” Anders tried explaining his awkwardness away to Catalina.  
  
She smiled at him, admiring his ease with Havoc. Most people tried to run when he got close to them, which is always a bad thing to do around a mabari who has you in its sights for love or an attack.  
  
“No adoring looks? Well, isn’t that a pity” Catalina teased Anders as she gave him a lopsided smile.  
  
“Let’s just say tainted ex-Grey Warden apostate mages aren’t used to kindness of any kind.”   
  
“No kindness from anyone…So, that explains your whole sexy tortured look.” Bethany’s eyes grew wide, and Catalina cringed at herself inside. She wanted to run, to do something but what could she do? Catalina felt the heat creeping up from her chest, spreading to her face… Quick, Kitty…what would Izzy do? Jump him and begin riding him like mad…Okay, not the best question to ask…

Catalina gave her best Isabela impersonation and tilted her head and winked at Anders. …Oh Maker! What exactly am I doing?... Kitty Hawke looked away after her wink, looking for and not finding Havoc. She had a sudden interest in the unscrubbed wooden floors  
  
Anders’ eyes grew wide; this is not what he expected from Hawke. The armored imp was full of surprises; he liked it, wanted it. “Perhaps, I should check a looking glass more often.” He loved the way she wanted to look up into his eyes, but couldn’t actually make herself do it.   
  
Anders swallowed a small laugh, “I might have to start trying to become a dog person if it gets me more responses like that from you.” Anders realized what he had said when Catalina’s eyes snapped up and stared directly into his. “I mean, I’ve always been a cat person. I do miss Ser Pounce-a-lot.” Hawke simply nodded at Anders attempt to recover from his own embarrassment.   
  
Bethany cringed as she watched the two of them—it was just too painful. Having mercy she cleared her throat, “Anders, I believe you said you had to get back to the clinic…something about an appointment you needed to keep?”   
  
Catalina turned and stared at her sister—she scrunched her face in embarrassment—she had made a fool of herself in front of Anders and her sister.   
  
“Of course. You’re right,” Anders said as he felt a rush of relief sweep over him. Bethany was giving him a way out of making a bigger fool of himself. “Do come by and see me if you want me” he mumbled as he headed out of the door.  
  
Hawke was sure her face was a blur of different shades of red as she stared at the door. She did not see Bethany walk up to her, or felt Havoc’s fur as he rubbed his head against her hand.  
  
“You do like him quite a bit, don’t you Sister?”   
  
“Unfortunately for my self-esteem, I do. Now if I could quit being such a fool around him…” Hawke shook her head as if clearing her thoughts of embarrassment. She was trying to knock the fool notion of her being with Anders out of her head, but just like herself the idea was incredibly stubborn and only seemed to lodge itself deeper into her mind. “Just don’t say anything about this to Izzy—or Aveline—or Varric…”


	9. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Catalina each have a conversation with themselves.

This cannot continue.  
 _What? Why?_  
Mages need justice, you know this. You must work to deliver that unto them. She is distracting you.  
 _No. I’m doing all that I can._   
You visit her sister hoping to see her. That is time taken away from achieving our purpose.  
 _I was learning from her sister, what it’s like to never be in the circle. Trying to be able to paint a picture of family life without fear of magic--_  
But fear of being caught. It does not matter; you lie to me and to yourself. You wanted--  
 _Wanted to learn more about Hawke._ Anders hung his head, his mind racing.  
Let her believe you only wish to see her sister.

Anders eyes widened at the idea, Hawke thinking that he was interested in Bethany when he only seemed to think about her. _I don’t want to hurt her._  
You see, she occupies your thoughts. You know what needs to be done.  
 _I’m not going to lie to her._  
You will hurt her and you will lie to her--now or later. You must not lose focus: freedom not love.  
 _Can you really be free and not want or have love?_  
Do you really feel love or a base desire of lust? This must not continue.  
  
Anders cradled his head in his hands as he let the question flow into and consume his mind: was he in love with her? He couldn’t be. How he could have fallen in love with Catalina Hawke in so short a time? He did not know. What he did know that he couldn’t afford the luxury of her, not at the price he knew would eventually be paid: her heartache.  
  
***  
Catalina Hawke kept reminding herself she needed to go and visit Anders—just to talk. Lately, it seemed like she visited him to recruit him into her latest job. He accompanied her when she went to find the Viscount’s son and rescued him from the Winters. He went with her whenever she asked. She always made sure to seek his help whenever it seemed mages might be involved. She wasn’t quite sure why—was she trying to prove she was mage friendly?  
  
She gave a sarcastic laugh to the air, but she could hear the sadness in it—no one knew just how much she gave to protect her own mage sister. Catalina Hawke worked hard to make sure Bethany would never know—she could guess and be all too perceptive but Catalina had decided long ago that she would protect her sister as much as she could and in any way that she could.  
  
No, Catalina asked Anders because she wanted to be around him and knew a job involving mages would interest him and make him more likely to come along. It was a legitimate reason being used as a schoolgirl excuse for her to see and be near Anders. She needed to get herself under control—Anders seemed to reveal a side of Hawke that she thought was so well hidden that it was lost. Catalina Hawke decided to visit Anders and do something about her crush—be it in her favor or not.


	10. "I had a friend like you once..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina pays Anders a visit.

“New armor, Hawke?” Isabela gave Hawke an approving once over as Hawke entered The Hanged Man.   
  
Hawke just laughed, “A gift from—I guess I would call her a friend, or at least I think it was from her.” Isabela stared at Hawke, a questioning eyebrow raised in her direction.   
  
“I told a woman I had met I wanted to turn into a dragon like she could—she was a shapeshifter. Of course I knew I couldn’t, and she laughed in my face and quiet seriously told me that I could never be a dragon. We ended up trading favors—“ Hawke noticed the way Isabela was smiling at her and put up her hand before Izzy could crack the quip that she obviously had on the tip of her tongue. “Not that way, Izzy. I swear, you could make the Chant of Light into perverted verse.” Isabela grinned at Hawke and took a bow.  
  
Hawke continued on before Isabela decided to show how much of the chant she could make dirty. “After I helped deliver the package she had given me—a locket, Izzy.” Hawke rolled her eyes at Isabela, “It was a locket. She paid me coin in full and I thought that was it. I got this package a week ago. It’s made out of dragon scale and hide: tough to pierce but amazingly light enough for incredible maneuverability.”  
  
Isabela looked over Hawke. “You say you got it a week ago?” She let her eyes drag over Hawke’s body, taking in the new armor and how it seemed tailored just for Hawke: the deep hued purple was a nice compliment to Hawke’s light caramel colored skin. The gloves seemed to suit her, tough, the finger tips edged like claws. The bodice had flare and length in the back almost flowing like a cape to cover the skin tight leggings hugging Catalina Hawke’s lower body like a drowning man held on to a piece of flotsam. The back of the bodice also had a cutout showing skin and some interesting scars on Hawke’s back. The front showed just enough cleavage to distract but modest enough that Hawke didn’t seem at odds with wearing it. It also hugged her torso in all the right ways. There was no way anyone could confuse Hawke as a man in this new armor.   
  
“Yes, a week ago.” Cat felt her face start to color as she already knew what Isabela was going to imply. “What’s your point?”  
  
“This is the first time you’ve worn it; and didn’t you mention that you planned on seeing Anders today…” Isabela watched as Hawke attempted to control the flush of her face. “It’s alright, pigeon. I’m sure he’s going to go wild over it—if he doesn’t then that thing in his head has made him daft. “ Isabela crossed her eyes in mock madness.  
  
Catalina let out a hearty laugh and smiled at Isabela. “Wish me luck.”   
  
***  
Catalina had kept her promise of Anders seeing her around. What they both hadn’t counted on was how often they occupied each other’s thoughts. Anders knew what he had to do when it came to Hawke and with Justice’s resolve; he was going to see it done. He kept seeing Catalina, and was more than happy to go with her to complete her jobs and raise money for her expedition.  
  
Time you should be spending focusing on--   
_Yes, I know, focusing on helping my fellow mages._  
  
Sometimes Anders wished that he could just be a man. He let out a tired and heavy sigh. A man couldn’t do what needed to be done—as a man he only got so far in trying to escape the Circle in Fereldan himself. If it hadn’t been for King Alistair, his Queen the Warden-Commander and the Rite of Transcription, there wouldn’t even have been an Anders anymore—just the husk of Anders.  
  
The Warden-Commander—he owed her his life. He didn’t think he’d ever meet another woman like her, yet escaping the Grey Wardens and coming to Kirkwall brought an other woman of incredible ability to his attention. Too bad it was after the fact that he had a purpose and couldn’t offer her what she deserved—he wasn’t even sure if he were just a simple man if he would be worthy of her. Anders continued in the reverie of his thoughts, straightening the clinic and checking supplies.  
  
Do not forget our purpose.  
  
Anders broke out of his thoughts as his attention was drawn to the door. Catalina Hawke was walking through—what was that saying, speak of desire demons and watch one appear? Anders straightened his shoulders; his resolve and promise to himself becoming fresh in his mind. But then he focused his attention on Catalina as she smiled him and made her way through the clinic. Anders became suddenly appreciative of the large space that she had to cross to get near him—the time crossing that distance let him drink her image in and savor it. He began to imagine what it would be like to feel her skin against his, to taste of her skin, of her—  
  
She is no demon but she distracts you from your purpose just the same.  
 _You know, sometime you ought to let me just be a man for a while and maybe you’ll be able to appreciate a sight like this._  
  
Anders smiled at Catalina as she drew near him. She leaned against a column facing him; her shoulders touching the wood, pushing her chest forward drawing further attention to her curves. Anders tried not to grin, and quickly imprinted the image of her in his mind. Catalina gave him a smile and Anders decided to break the incredible tension he was beginning to feel between them.  
  
“I had a friend like you once; got in all kinds of trouble--dragged me along. Didn’t think I’d be doing that again.” Anders watched as she gave him a grin and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. He felt Justice push at him; he swallowed what he really wanted to say and began, “I got a bit weighty that time we talked. Sorry for putting that on you.”  
  
Catalina looked at him, her eyes big and open to him. She had to know what she was doing to him, didn’t she? Even though she was so armored, her dark eyes always seemed so open and vulnerable to him. Catalina gave Anders a shy smile as she spoke what she knew was her truth: “You can tell me anything.”  
  
“Anything? Be careful what you offer.” Anders’ eyes opened wide and he smiled at her teasingly.   
  
You take too long.  
  
Catalina watched as Anders’ teasing smile fell and his demeanor quickly changed to something so sad and serious.   
  
“I just—I hope I didn’t seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn’t know what would happen. I figured a willing host, a friend--it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse.”  
  
Was that it? Did he feel guilty for trying to help? Catalina wanted to reach out to him, comfort him. Instead, she spoke what she knew and tried so hard to believe: “We can’t always predict the outcome of our actions. We can only make them with a true heart.” She smiled at Anders, hoping that her words could truly convey what she felt.  
  
“Kind, wise and beautiful. You must have made a deal with some demons yourself.”

Catalina felt herself blush at his words, so quickly and easily said. Anders thought the rosy hue covering her cheeks only made her more beautiful, but he didn’t mean to—and shouldn’t have been so flirtatious with her.   
  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t presume. I just—we’ve hardly met and I feel like I know you.” He felt so awkward, apologizing for merely stating how he felt. Old Anders would be making more overt and suggestive advances, but he wasn’t just Anders anymore—what woman would be okay with opening herself to him now? “Am I making you uncomfortable?”  
  
The only one making her uncomfortable was herself—she confidently faced smugglers, thieves and didn’t even blink when having an audience with the Arishok. But with Anders she wasn’t so sure. She looked up from where she had been staring at her toes digging into the floor of the clinic; she bit the corner of her bottom lip as she whispered, “Doesn’t mean I want you to stop.”   
  
Anders’ mind raced with thoughts he hadn’t felt since he merged with Justice—thoughts that started appearing shortly after Catalina Hawke first walked through his clinic doors.   
  
You are making her uncomfortable.  
 _But she doesn’t want me to stop._  
  
 He had to smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”   
  
I will take care of this distraction if you do not.  
  
Anders shook his head slightly, “No. I-- I shouldn’t do this. I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
Catalina’s eyes begin to widen, confusion taking over her features, “Why would you hurt me?”

She tried to meet his eyes but he was turning from her. Catalina followed him with her eyes as he walked away, “It doesn’t matter; I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. Hurt me, I might like it.”  
  
Anders’ breath caught at her last statement. He turned and looked at her, “No.” Anders turned away and took a seat on a crate nearby. “You saw what I did in the Chantry. That’s who I am.” He wasn’t going to lie to her—he did not want a relationship with her sister, or Isabela or anyone else; but he would not allow himself what he wanted—her.    
  
“A year ago, maybe we could have had something. But I’m not that man anymore. I’ll break your heart. And that might kill me as surely as the Templars.” Anders dropped his head into his hands, feeling heartache: having to push Catalina away, imagining what could have been but knowing that he could not let it happen, seeing her heart break as he keeps his promise of hurting her—He was hurting her now, but tried to console himself with the thought that it was so much less than the pain that could have been.  
  
Catalina walked over to Anders, and squatted in front of him. She placed her hands on his wrists trying to get Anders attention, to get him to look at her. She begin to see blue and heard the words: “Leave him be.” Even though the words were whispered, she felt the deep timbre of the voice travel through her veins as it tried to make her heart tremble.   
  
Hawke dropped her hands and stood in front of Anders, neither he nor Justice would look up at her. She let out a small sigh, and placed her hand on his shoulder as she leaned over and whispered, “Fine, Justice. I’ll leave for now, but I will still come and see Anders and be his friend.”

Catalina stood and squeezed Anders’ shoulder as she let her voice unspool with promise for Anders, “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Warden.”


	11. Forgotten Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do ex-Grey Wardens dream of?
> 
> !Some explicit content contained within!

He had her in his arms, carrying her to a cot in his empty clinic. She had buried her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. He placed her on the cot, and she wouldn’t let him go—instead she used her arms to pull him towards her, her arms releasing him as her hands took him captive leading him to her lips.   
  
Hawke kissed him so softly, and he felt himself begin to tremble as her soft shy kisses became hungry with desire. Her mouth parted for him, allowing his tongue to enter her, to taste of her mouth. Her hands began to roam his body, and his returned the favor. He felt his hands touch the linen cloth of her tunic, and the leather of her corset. Their mouths feeding on each other as their hands couldn’t touch each other enough.  
  
She pressed her body up against his, a moan escaping her as his lip began to travel against her jawbone, down to her neck—getting lost in the scent of her skin, his tongue tasting her skin, his hunger for her growing. Cat clawed at his robes, wanting to touch him not cloth. Her quick fingers worked the buckles as Anders’ mouth nibbled and nipped at her shoulders, his fingers undoing the hooks of her corset. Finally, she had access to his skin, her fingers splaying against his chest. His hand snaked underneath her tunic and he groaned as she arched her back, pressing her abdomen and chest against his palm as it traveled up to her breasts.  
  
He stood, and finished removing his robes; he looked down and took her image in: Her dark curls were spread like a halo around her face, her lips were red and swollen from their kisses, and her skin was flush with desire. She was running one hand up her abdomen, towards her breasts, pushing her tunic up and over her mounds, her fingers running against one of her hard nipples. Her other hand was reaching for him, and he pulled her up to him. He nearly ripped her tunic from her as it threatened to fall back down and cover her sweet flesh she had just teased him with. Her nipples raking against his abdomen as her mouth played on his chest, her pink tongue darting out and licking his right nipple. He felt Cat’s hands playing with the bulge in his pants, caressing his hardness, teasing him with squeezes.   
  
Anders pushed Cat back down on the cot, and his fingers worked her leggings, peeling them down to reveal her curvy hips and finally her womanhood. Her lips were glistening with her wetness, and he couldn’t help himself, he had to taste her. He kissed her abdomen and made his way down to her glistening lips, his tongue lapping at them. The tip teasing between her lips, gently probing and finding the nub of pleasure guarded within.  
  
She grabbed at him with her hands, and pushed his head down against her as her hips lifted up, her body trembling beneath the wave Anders was causing her to feel. She let out a low and husky moan, her breath quickening and finally calling out his name as he sucked on her, and pushed a finger in her, causing her to buck against him.  
  
He wouldn’t wait anymore. He stood, and quickly worked to remove his pants. Cat sat up, and reached for him. She began stroking his hard member before wrapping her lips around his head and tasting of his skin and of him. She began sucking him, one hand pulling on his hips, the other caressing his balls as she pushed him further and further in her mouth. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes, and Anders pulled away from her. He sat on the cot as she quickly straddled him, positioning her slippery and wanting opening against his head. Cat held his eyes as she began sliding down on his hard cock.  
  
He felt how tight she was, how wet she was and he knew it was because of him. She pushed herself further on to him, her hips grinding down against his until she had all of him buried deep within her. Anders captured her mouth with his as she began to ride him, her breasts bouncing against his chest as she nipped at his lower lip. His hands cupped her round bouncing ass as she quickened her pace and held her as he began to slam her down onto his cock. He couldn’t hold on much longer, he didn’t want to. Cat released his mouth, and he heard her ragged breath as she began to moan his name over and over. Anders felt her silky walls begin to squeeze him, milking him as she came while riding him. Feeling her squeeze him, hearing Cat saying his name was all he needed. He buried himself deep within her as his cock pulsed within her, answering her body’s pleas to be filled.  
  
Anders held on to Cat as they both came down from their peaks. He leaned back to see her face, her beautiful eyes and the lovely glow. Cat smiled at him, and leaned forward to close the gap he had just made between them. She brought her swollen lips to his ear as she whispered, “Anders…”  
  
“Anders, are you here? I need to talk to you?”  
  
Anders sat up on the cot he called his bed. He looked around in amazement; it was all just a dream. A dream! He covered his face with his hands; he hadn’t had a dream like that since before joining the Grey Wardens. He always had to deal with bouts of darkspawn whispering in his ear as he tried to get rest. A smile played on his lips as he began remembering this lovely gem of a dream that was oh so different than the usual. It’s been so long—what had changed to cause this to happen?   
  
Her, you dream of her.   
_Cat? I mean, Catalina, I mean, Hawke. Hawke._   
Yes, Catalina.  
  
Anders’ jaw dropped as Justice actually named Ca—Hawke.   
  
“Anders!”  
  
Anders looked up as he saw Isabela come around the corner. “Don’t you know how to knock?”   
  
“Please, you run a free clinic in Darktown. You should be worried if you hear a knock at your door instead of someone just coming in.” Isabela walked towards him, taking a seat at the end of his cot. “You look like you just had a fun dream…”  
  
“I was a Grey Warden, Isabela. I don’t have fun dreams—I dream of whispers in the dark…”  
  
“Can still be fun depending on the kind of whispers, sweet thing.” Isabela gave Anders a wink as she gestured to his waist.   
  
Anders didn’t even acknowledge Isabela’s gesture. “I take it you’re here for a good reason?”  
  
“You mean, other than to deprive a possessed mage of his beauty sleep?” Isabela grinned at Anders teasingly. “Of course I have a good reason.” Isabela’s grin changed, and her face became full of concern.  
  
Isabela began, “It’s Hawke and her fool expedition--”  
  
“Is Catalina okay?” Anders broke in to Isabela’s words, not realizing what he gave away until Isabela raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“:Catalina, is it? Seems like Pigeon is holding out on little ol’Isabela. And here I thought she told me everything.” Isabela pouted, her delight in teasing Anders brightening her eyes as she realized she now had information no one else had.  
  
“Is Hawke okay?” Anders kept his voice level; Damn this pirate if she didn’t give him a straight answer if Catalina was okay or not.  
  
“Yes, she’s fine. In fact, she’s wrapping up a job now for some Prince turned Chantry Brother. He is pretty handsome for a choirboy, as Varric calls him.” Isabela pretended to be interested in her fingernails as she dangled this new bit of information in front of Anders.  
  
“Prince turned Chantry…” Anders knitted his eyebrows in concern, his hands balled into fists as he thought of Catalina dealing with a prince—  
  
A handsome one.   
_Way to rub it in._   
You should be happy, perhaps now she’ll no longer distract you.  
 _Back to calling Cat ‘she’ again, are we?_  
  
Isabela watched as Anders seemed to be arguing with that voice in his head—Hawke had told her that whenever he was dealing with Justice, Anders would get quiet and his jaw would get hard and tight. Her little pigeon had it bad for this mage, and now she saw that Anders felt the same. Now to get them together…  
  
“Sorry to interrupt the conversation you’re having with yourself, but I did come here to tell you something.” Isabela crossed her arms in mock impatience; she was sure how he would react to her news, and that would just give her further proof that Anders did adore Hawke even if he tried pushing her away.  
  
“What?” Anders realized his muscles were tense and he tried to relax them as he waited for Isabela to finally deliver her news.  
  
“Hawke has let me know that she is not going to have healer with her during the expedition.” Isabela waited expectantly.  
  
“What?!” Anders stood, his tall frame causing Isabela to look up at him. “What about Bethany, she knows how to heal small things.” His mind began to race as he waited to hear Isabela’s answer.  
  
“Seems like Mother Hawke guilted our girl into leaving Bethany behind…”  
  
“But why wouldn’t she ask me then?” Did she not trust him in the Deep Roads?  
  
“I asked her the same thing, but she said she couldn’t do that to you. Hawke went on and on about how you hated the Deep Roads, and she wasn’t going to force you to go traipsing around them: with her and Fenris—“  
  
“That elf is going with her into the Deep Roads too!” Anders began to get a little angry. Catalina had told him none of this, and now he had to hear about it from Isabela of all people.  
  
“Yup. With Varric, of course, and Fenris.” Isabela gave a sigh as she realized, “ Balls! I guess she’ll try to drag me along since she needs a fourth and her sister is now stuck at home.”   
  
Isabela shrugged her shoulders and stood up. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know. Maybe you can give her a list of potions and the like she’ll need to make sure and have.” Isabela tried to look innocent as she walked up to Anders. “She is going to be gone for weeks, down in the dark with that broody elf…”  
  
Isabela turned and left Anders with a satisfied smile crossing her face; she had seen his eyes go hard at the mention of Fenris. She just snagged Hawke a healer, and with any luck, maybe a mage who will finally make his move.


	12. Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probable cheesy fluffiness within!

She started to feel; her senses returning to her heavy limbs slowly but surely. Her eyes fluttered, trying to open but struggling under the weight of her long black lashes. The chords in her throat began to vibrate as she let out a soft moan of pain. Her mind raced as she heard movement around her, her limbs so heavy and her timing too slow; she began cursing under her breath. As her voice grew stronger her curses began taking wild shapes of Andraste’s various flaming body parts. Laughter punctuated each phrase as finally, Hawke’s eyes opened and her mind registered where she was and all that were around her.  
  
Varric. The laughter was coming from Varric, and Maker help him if he weaves a story out of whatever incident put her in such a vulnerable helpless position. Hawke blinked and let out a sigh, of course he would weave a story and she’ll end up laughing along with him as he unfolded his work before the fires of The Hanged Man. Hawke tried sitting up, but her muscles were still weak from whatever happened. All of a sudden she felt hands around her arms, steadying her and helping sit up on the bedroll she was on.  
  
“Here, let me help. Does your head hurt? Your side?” Hawke turned towards the voice and owner of the hands holding her up. Anders. Concern was in his honey brown eyes, shining through the guarded shroud of professionalism. She gave him a weak smile.  
  
“What happened,” she croaked as one of her hands reached for the one steadying her—for Anders’ hand. Suddenly, that place on her arm felt so cold, and she saw that he had stepped away from her, and she was sitting on her own.  
  
“Darkspawn, ogres, dragons…the usual sights when touring the Deep Roads.” Varric tossed a laugh as he shifted Bianca on his back. He walked forwards towards Hawke, and stood before her. It was odd, him seemingly towering over her as she started to regain her mind as she perched on the bedroll on the floor.   
  
“Well, at least we got this one free instead of having to pay extra for the ‘true deep roads’ experience” Hawke quipped, as she cracked a smirk on her face. She felt the cold of the ground seeping through the bedroll through the palms of her hands as she pushed herself up and stumbled.  
  
“Don’t strain yourself.” Ander’s reached out to catch Hawke, the concern from his eyes leaking into his voice. “You were knocked down pretty hard by that ogre—“  
  
“And hitting that stalactite or stalagmite, or whatever the fuck it is called didn’t help either.” Varric finished as he took Hawke’s hand and led her to a fallen piece of wall for her to sit on.   
  
“Well then, Varric—my story-teller and beloved dwarf-- you’ll have to tell me all about it and don’t forget to mix in plenty of good parts.” Hawke said with a wink.  
  
Anders absent-mindedly listened to Varric’s version of the previous day’s events. Even with all the embellishments, the tale only brought back the fresh memory of seeing Catalina run by and drag her blade across the side of the ogre and then in a blink being flung away from the beast as that blasted elf limberly leaped up and stabbed his blade through the ogre’s skull. If that’s what really happened. Anders sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, he had to rely on Varric’s version as much as Catalina did—and they both knew Varric’s version of things could be fantastical with just enough truth to have people questioning their own senses.   
  
That moment, when Catalina fell, that is all he saw: her body flying through the air and smashing against the rock and ruins of the deep roads. Time seemed to freeze as he felt the impact of her back against the stone, felt the breath leave her lungs and then there was the awful realization of no movement. He wasn’t sure how, but he was immediately by her side, panic wanting to overtake him, but his practice as a healer took over and he was caring for her before the panic could sweep him away.   
  
Catalina Hawke was alive and well. Watching her interact with Varric and Fenris showed just how much spirit she had. He smirked as he realized that she was giving Varric tips on how to make the story better, and teasing Fenris on being slow on the whole “glowing warrior death thing.” Seizing onto her voice and laughter as an anchor, Anders briefly gave in to the panic that he had pushed aside and swallowed away.   
  
He nearly lost her. He closed his eyes, as he turned away from the group and towards the fire. She wasn’t his to lose, not really—he wasn’t her beloved healer, or beloved-- but the terrible panic and fear, the surge of heartbreak gripped him as his mind raced wildly with terrible questions of “what ifs.” His shoulders slumped forward, quiet aching and tiredness following the harsh crash of panic that he had given into.  
  
“You all right, Blondie?” Varric asked as he held his hands open before the fire.   
  
“Just tired, healing can take a lot out of you, you know.”   
  
Varric looked at him oddly, “healing or the worry of losing your lady love?”   
  
“What?! I don’t know what you’re talking about” Anders stammered, as he started stepping away from the all too aware dwarf.   
  
“Relax, Blondie. You weren’t the only one worrying.” Interesting; Varric let Anders’ reaction to his tease about Hawke being his lady love slide but also filed it away.  
  
Hawke stretched as she yawned. She hadn’t been awake that long, but her body still felt tired from the battle and recuperation of her wounds. She looked towards Anders and Varric standing by the fire. Who knows what was being said between the two, but she was quite content to see Anders there. His frame was lit from the fire, his height and breadth of shoulders exaggerated by the dancing flames and standing next to a dwarf. A small sigh escaped her lips, and in that same moment Anders and Varric both turned and looked at her. Maker! It was only a sigh, wasn’t it?  
  
Hawke became vaguely aware that they were saying something, and felt a sense of relief when she realized they were talking to Fenris who was standing next to her. Catalina felt the flush heat of a blush crossing her face; she dropped her head into her hands. Andraste’s ass, Fenris probably heard her sigh and saw her fawn like a school girl. Catalina looked up and between her fingers to see both Anders and Fenris standing before her. It wasn’t until the concern on both their faces registered that she realized that her movement of embarrassment was attributed to fatigue and possible injury from her dance with the ogre.  
  
“I’m just tired. Could…” Hawke bit her lower lip as she worked up courage to complete her request. “Could someone help me to my bedroll? I’d like to get some sleep.” Two hands appeared before her and one quickly withdrew. Anders’. Hawke took Fenris’ hand, and quickly glanced towards Anders, but he had already turned away.  
  
***  
Sleeping in the Deep Roads, if you even dared call it sleep. He never thought he’d be doing that again, yet here he was. The dreams came, nightmares: a sweet hell he put himself through where he tasted of Catalina only to wake up and find that it wasn’t real; and then the other nightmares, the ones he could handle compared to the ones of her which were attempting to weaken his resolve. Anders had never thought he’d be happy with nightmares of darkspawn and their mumbled whispers in the dank darkness. Anders opened his eyes to stare into the dark nothingness of the deep roads, yet here he was.  
  
He noticed movement out of the corner of his eyes, towards Catalina’s bedroll. His eyes worked the darkness and picked out a figure rising from the floor. Anger, jealousy and panic crossed Anders’ face as thoughts raced quickly through his mind: Fenris as Hawke’s lover stealing away in the middle of the night so no one would know. Anger colored his eyes as he hated the thought of anyone possessing his Cat in that manner, of leaving her in the middle of the night like her love was a dirty secret. Jealousy held his heart as he longed to be the one she called her lover, the one to she gave herself to just like in his dreams. Panic flicked across both emotions as his mind conjured images of shades attacking her, his small bit of light in the darkness of the Deep Roads and of his mind.  
  
In a matter of seconds, he tapped into his mana and was ready to heave ice at the offending figure when he heard her voice emerge from that shadow.

“Where is it? Why can’t I find it? Please, please, oh Maker, don’t let me have lost it.” Panic and terror filled her last whispered utterance. Her voice was so soft, it would be easy to imagine he heard her words, but his heart spoke differently and he was up and by her side. His mind told him to stop all too late, but it was alright as she frantically turned and ran into his chest. Any other time, and it would have been the blade of dagger against his throat instead of her body slammed against his.  
  
“Catalina?” he whispered and immediately her stiff frame melted into his, as her hands grabbed the back of his robes, hugging him closer.   
  
“I can’t find it Anders! It’s the only thing left I had of my father’s. It means so much to me, and I lost it.” Catalina’s words came hushed and fast.  
  
His arms surrounded her and pulled her close, “It’s okay, lo—Cat. What is it? We can find it.” His hands slid from her back to her arms and up to her shoulders as he pushed her away from him, enough to look down into her chocolate colored eyes, but close enough to feel her breath and heat against him. One hand held her in place, afraid that she would leave him, while another came up and wiped the tear that had fallen down her cheek. That hand cradling her cheek for a second, feeling her softness and vulnerability as she pressed it against his palm.  
  
“It’s silly, I know it is. But, it looks like a coin, it’s a small medallion. Off of its chain, a token really…” Catalina pulled away from Anders hesitantly and turned as she could feel the bloom of a rosy blush on her already heated face. What was it with her and always blushing around this man?  
  
“But it was your father’s, and that’s what matters.” He walked up behind her, tempted to pull her back into his arms. To feel her body against his, to share in her open vulnerability. He balled his fists by his side to keep himself from doing so.  
  
“Yes! It was his, and he gave it to me oh so long ago, when I was a little girl. Help me, Anders! I need to find it.” Kitty heard the plea in her voice but didn’t care.  “I had it before the fight. I keep it in a special pocket, but it isn’t there” she nearly wailed, but checked herself not wanting to wake anyone else, not wanting anyone else to see her like this, blubbering like a child.  
  
Anders strode forward and grabbed Catalina’s hand. “Shh! Cat, it’s okay. It’s okay.” The urge to hold her was strong, and Anders willed himself to let go of Cat’s hand, but she held on to him like he was the only thing she knew. He began to pull her into his arms and she willingly followed, and buried her face into his chest. He stroked her hair as he whispered comfort. He knew that what he was about to say would stop the closeness, a deep hungry need within him was screaming for him to say nothing but just hold her. Still, the pain he felt at her panic was stronger and he took one of his hands and found one of the pockets in his robes. He felt the scratched token against his finger tips and withdrew it from his pocket.

His left hand slid down to hers as he turned her palm facing up, and with his right he placed the token in her hand. “I found this when I went back to collect your blade and daggers. I was going to ask you about it in the morning.”  
  
Anders let go of Cat. His hands feeling empty yet so heavy. Kitty stared down into the palm of her hand, the scratched surface and weight of the token letting her know that it was exactly what she was looking for.   
  
“You found it! Thank--!” She smiled in the dark, and then threw herself forward with childish delight. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could, the token falling into its usual place, biting into her palm. She popped up on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his stubbled cheek, and whispered in his ear “Oh Anders! Thank you.” She pirouetted away from him and seemed to disappear into the dark.  
  
Anders walked away in shock, angry at himself for not having returned the token to her sooner, for relishing the moment of her opening herself to him again like she had before in what seemed so long ago. He felt anger at how his body memorized this moment of her body pressed against his and how it compared to before—how his mind was so able to quickly recreate and recall the heat of her body against his in something so innocent as a simple hug. He shook his head, disappointed and felt Justice’s disgust. Anders went back to his bedroll and stretched out, knowing that he wouldn’t get any sleep—weak or not—the rest of that night.  
  
In the morning, he acted as if nothing happened. It was all a dream, but he couldn’t help but notice how when she first woke up, she looked in the palm of her hand and then turned and beamed at him. Catalina Hawke was beaming. Anders was tempted to rub his eyes thinking he had misread her, but no, her face was aglow in delight and her smile was directed at him. She mouthed thank you, and with Varric’s voice breaking their connection the Hawke the others knew and everyone loved appeared and beaming Cat disappeared—a whispered secret left over from the dark.


	13. The Token

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina tells a story in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines hummed are from "The Road" by In This Moment.

Another day in the Deep Roads, more battles with darkspawn and still he couldn’t sleep a full night. Fitful bouts of ‘rest’ is all he would ever get in the blighted Roads. He hated the Deep Roads and had vowed to stay away, but when he heard Hawke was going into the Deep with that elf, he again offered his services and all but insisted that he accompany them.  
  
No, he came because she had no healer and was going to rely on potions; Anders corrected himself as he flipped over onto his side, and found himself facing Cat’s direction. They always seemed to bed next to each other. Varric in one spot, Cat perpendicular to him, Anders parallel to Cat, and Fenris perpendicular to Anders. It was a pattern they fell into, though Justice warned him that he needed to lie closer to Varric than Cat. He didn’t know if he purposefully stretched out close to Cat’s spot every night or if it was coincidence. Every now and then he’d imagine that it was she who did it, wanting to be near him. Justice did not let those brief imaginings last.  
  
Again, he saw movement in the dark. In the darkness there would be glint of light, brief and there seemed to be a pattern. It was almost like a faint firefly in the dark. The light stopped its dance, and Anders heard his name.  
  
“Anders, are you awake?” Catalina whispered into the dark, as loud as she dared. She wanted him to be, wanted him to hear her, but wanted the others to stay asleep. The other night he was there for her in her panic—and let it remain a secret between the two of them the next morning. She remembered the other times he comforted her as she worked her way through the fear that gripped her; the night he held her in his clinic and she felt so safe; warmth took over her as she called again, “Anders?”  
  
Do not answer her.  
  
Justice’s thought boomed in Anders’ mind. Anders stayed still, trying to slow his breathing as if he was asleep. She called him, once and twice more. Anders shut his eyes, wishing he could shut his ears to her siren voice. Fenris moved in his sleep, and Hawke’s call grew silent. He would have never have thought he would be thankful for a fidgety elf, but yet here he was. Cat Hawke took him to the strangest places both physically and mentally. He sighed as he absentmindedly turned again and found himself facing her direction. She was sitting up on her bedroll, the light seemingly dancing in front of her, in her lap. He watched as it flitted back and forth, a patterned dance, a waltz in Cat’s lap. Watching it dance, he started to feel sleep try to overtake him. He reached out his hand towards the light as sleep finally won.  
  
When he woke up, Cat was asleep, her hand reaching for his. He quickly sat up, looking around. The elf was still asleep, but Varric, oh Maker! Varric was up and looking at him.

A smile crept across Varric’s face as he nodded towards Anders, “Seems like your lady love is trying to tell you something.” Anders glared at the dwarf, but Varric just smiled right back.  
  
***  
  
Again, it was night and Anders was in his place for sleep, next to her. There were lyrium deposits closer to where they camped than had been before and their glow pierced the darkness more than normal which allowed her to watch his frame as he tossed and turned. Catalina knew that coming to the Deep Roads was not on Anders’ list of fun things to do, but he came anyway. She was content on stocking up on potions and the little bit of first aid she knew, but when he had learned she wouldn’t have Bethany with her to help with healing he was at her and Varric’s side all but begging to go.  
  
She smiled into the dim dark. Catalina had to admit it to herself, she was attracted to Anders. She was more than attracted, she was smitten. Isabela teased her on it mercilessly. When he insisted on joining her in the Deep Roads, her heart quickened its pace. Her heart hoped against all hope that maybe he noticed her, not as Hawke, not even as Cat, but simply as Kitty the woman. She never knew how to read him, and she was sure she was pretty obvious with her feelings towards him. The confident Hawke she projected seem to grow weak and blushing Kitty was revealed. Kitty sighed in the dark. This was not good; she was heading for heartbreak since he made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her as a woman, a potential lover. She was Hawke, a friend and nothing more.  
  
Still, her mind brought forth the memory of the night she had met him. This memory caused her imagination to feed off of little things like the way Anders held her wrists a little bit longer than needed when he was checking over her injuries. Or how it seemed she’d sometimes catch him looking at her when she was trying to steal a look at him. Whenever their eyes met as they traveled the Deep, she wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl, but instead her face grew flush. She tried to hide it, taking off in a sprint to ‘scout ahead’ whenever she felt the heat so that she could blame the redness on her cheeks on the exertion she just put herself through. If fighting darkspawn wasn’t enough to keep her in shape, than traveling with Anders was going to.  
  
Anders jerked in his sleep, tossing and turning. He let out a low moan. Catalina pushed herself up on her side. Anders moaned again, and Cat collapsed onto her roll. She didn’t know if it was a nightmare or was like one of those dreams which pleasantly plagued her ever since she met Anders. Dreams of his lips caressing her body, of his hand wrapped in her curls as he claimed her…  
  
She sighed, wondering who he would be dreaming of—probably Isabela. Everyone wanted Isabela, and Anders had lain with her before—Isabela said they hadn’t but Kitty wasn’t so sure. Catalina shook her head; she didn’t want to think about that—to feel the tightness in her chest and throat at the thought of Anders and her best friend. She continued to hear Anders toss and turn. It had to be a nightmare, there was too much movement. She turned towards Anders’ bedroll and waited to see if he turned or moaned again. She saw him flail in the dark, and with that she began moving towards him.  
  
It wasn’t far, but she knew he wouldn’t want the drawn attention of the others knowing that he was having nightmares. Cat just hoped their companions hadn’t woken up to Anders moans and movements already. She moved as quietly as she could, and came right up next him. She sat up next to him, and saw signs of nightmares flitting across his handsome face. She moved a piece of his blonde hair that was too short of the tail he tied his hair back into. It was one of her favorite things about him, this strand of hair that framed his face and could get in his way. Kitty stroked her fingers from Anders temple down his rough cheek and to his chin. She whispered his name and he seemed to still. His body moved closer to hers, and Kitty moved, trying to make it to where his head was resting in her lap.  
  
She raked her fingers through his hair as she hummed so softly, “…My heart is strong and true. There’s nothing I won’t do to show you I would sacrifice my dying breath for you. No matter how dark the road, you’ll light my way…”  
  
Catalina opened her eyes and looked down on Anders’ face. His eyes were open, and he was watching her. Kitty’s eyes widened in embarrassment and fear, the familiar heat of a blush crossing her cheeks yet again. At least this time there was dark to hide the rosy hue dancing across her skin. She went to move, but his hand reached up and grabbed her wrist. The grip was strong but gentle.  
  
“Don’t.” Anders sat up, and positioned himself facing Cat. “Don’t go because of me…” Anders had uttered the words before he knew what he was doing. The heat crossing Cat’s face grew hotter.  
  
Cat swallowed the ball of embarrassment in her throat as she tried to explain why she was there: “You were tossing and turning. I just wanted to help in any way I could.”  
  
Anders sat up and faced Cat, a lazy content smile spread across his face. Cat stared at that smile, and wanted to melt at how comfortable it seemed.  
  
“You did help me, Cat. My dream started to change, but it was so different than what I had been dreaming—“Anders reached out and cupped Cat’s face with his hand, his thumb running against her lips, “-- then I woke up to find you here with me.” Anders leaned forward, and Kitty caught her breath.  
  
“Keep it down you two, the elf and I are trying to sleep.” Varric’s voice caused the captive air to rush out of Cat’s lungs. Anders pulled away. It was Cat’s turn to grab onto his wrist. He didn’t move, and she finally let go, afraid that he would get up and walk away. Anders didn’t want to leave that spot, and only Justice could make him move and that wouldn’t be without a fight.  
  
“What was that you were humming?” Anders whispered in the dark. Kitty’s eyes widened as she realized what she had sung under her breath.  
  
“It’s nothing, just some verse I read a long time ago.” Cat ducked her head not wanting to meet Anders’ gaze even in the dim dark. The silence between them was beginning to cloak them in another world. Anders jerked back, not wanting to give in to the feelings and desires that were welling within him. Cat was afraid she had done something wrong, that he was going to send her away or leave her alone in this dark; so in a hurried voice rushed to fill the void his movement had made.  
  
“Thank you, for finding my token. It means a lot to me, the token and the fact that you went back for my blades and found the token before I realized it was lost.” Maker, did she have to stammer when talking to him in the dark?  
  
“Well, I was a bit taken aback at the surprising amount of blades you had to have concealed on you for the number that was on the ground.” Anders teased Cat in the dark, knowing her caramel skin would gain a rosy hue.

The token.

_What?_

Catalina was about to talk about the token.

The token that had caused the vulnerable side of Hawke to reveal itself again—the side she opened to him the first night they knew each other and sealed her unknowing enchantment of him. “I did nothing special, but I’m glad I could help. I would hate for you to lose something so important.”  
  
Cat drew her knees up to her chin, and Anders moved from being in front of her, to sitting beside her. She leaned towards him, and he could have sworn a piece of heaven had fallen on to his shoulder when he felt her rest her head there.  
  
“When I was little, I wanted to be like my father.” Catalina Hawke began as she started to unfurl the tale of her token. “It drove Mother crazy. Her first born daughter wanting to take after her father. Not to mention the fact that Mother’s bloodline has always been strong with magic, which they took as a shameful thing. But I wanted so much to be like my father, and to have magic and use it like he did. When we discovered that Bethany had the gift of magic, I grew so jealous. Why couldn’t I have that special bond with father?” Kitty smirked as she remembered her younger self having that first taste of jealousy. “I was stupid and ran away after Father started giving lessons to Bethany. I hated it that I never had that with him. There was a cave that I knew of in the forest close by. I ran there and hid. Unfortunately, I had the worst timing. There was a cave in after I had entered the cave. I was trapped.”  
  
Kitty felt a shiver travel down her spine at the memory of the cold dark tight space that she was trapped in. Anders wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. She snuggled against him, thankful that he was her anchor from getting lost in the memory. “Thankfully, Father knew of the cave as well and came looking for me there. He saw that it was caved in and was going to look elsewhere thinking that it happened before I had ran away. Still he kept being drawn back to the cave, and after he sat and listened he heard something. Turns out it was my stifled sobs.  
  
It seems silly, but I was trying not to cry—I wanted to be brave and strong like I saw my father. I knew I needed to be strong since Mother and Father had Carver and Bethany, and Bethany’s magic to protect. I didn’t know what I was going to do, or who would help me. I didn’t want anyone to hear me cry, but Father heard the sobs I was trying to swallow and found a small gap that he could peer through. It was dark, of course, so he called a wisp from the Fade and asked it to light and explore the little cubby hole I was trapped in.  
  
I was so happy to see that little wisp as it led me to the gap. I could smell the fresh air seeping in, and I heard my father. I couldn’t see him as it was starting to get dark, so I started to cry again thinking he had disappeared. He called the wisp again. As long as I saw the wisp I knew he was there, that I wasn’t alone.”  
  
Anders heart broke a little when he heard the crack in Cat’s voice as she uttered the word, ‘alone.’ He knew the feeling of ‘alone’, of being trapped in a place where you had no control and no one was there for you. He was here for her though, just like her father had been there in that moment. Anders hugged Cat against him, and she released the grip on her legs and placed one hand on his thigh. He swallowed the lump of emotion and desire in his throat.  
  
Catalina continued, “Father would get the wisp to bounce along his knuckles, a little pattern like a dance. He worked by himself to clear as much as he could with one hand, so I could see the wisp dancing on the back of his hand. There was an opening big enough for me to squeeze through by morning. Father took me home, and that night Mother had scolded me and tanned my backside—“ Anders gave a small smile as he leaned his head against hers, trying to imagine this defiant woman getting spanked. He felt her hand on his thigh, fingers gripping him; Anders forced his mind to focus on Cat’s words.  
  
 “--Father came into my room to talk. I told him I was jealous and wanted to have something special too, like magic that he and Bethany had. He gave a sad smile and hugged me.”  
  
Anders wondered if Malcom Hawke’s sad smile was something similar to his own as he wondered what went through the mind of Cat’s father to hear that his oldest child, his first daughter wanted so very badly to have something special like magic. To hear a child approach something marked as so dangerous with wonder and see it as a special gift. It had to be such a heartbreaking mixture of pride, surprise, and sadness.  
  
“I asked him to make the wisp dance again, and he did. I told him I wish I could do that, and asked if I tried hard enough and thought hard enough if I could have a wisp that danced.” Anders smiled at her description, imagining the little spirit from the Fade dancing along the back of a hand, and he could imagine that same glowing smile he briefly saw on Cat’s face lighting the face of a younger version of her. This caused him to give an actual small smile of his own.  
  
“He pulled me closer and told me no, that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to but it was okay because I had my own special kind of magic.” Catalina stopped and she began to move in her spot. Anders felt a small rise of panic begin to take him as he thought that this magical creature named Cat would get up and leave him and Hawke would materialize, Hawke taking back this gift she didn’t realize she was giving him, just Hawke acting on instinct,  realizing that being near him was wrong.

Instead, Cat wiped away a tear and continued. “He pulled out a small metal circle, that had a hole at the top—“ her voice cracked, and Anders whispered softly, “your token.” He felt Cat nod her head against his body.  
  
“He said that I could not have a wisp, but I could make the token dance, with practice. He showed me how to place it and roll it just right. He told me I could have it, but I had to think of others and how they felt. And I had to remember how worried he and Mother was, how much they loved me and that I’d always have a bond with him, magic or no.” Cat sighed, as her body melted more into Anders’ side. “That was the first lesson I learned from this token.” Anders looked down and saw that Cat had taken the token from her pocket and was running it back and forth across her slender fingers. “Whenever I feel alone, or get scared about anything—“ Cat murmured sleepily against Anders. He felt her body sliding down and shifted his body and guided her shoulders to where she could lie comfortably, her head resting on his lap as it would pillow. He looked down to see where the token had fallen, and noticed that she had caught it between her fingers and even though she was giving in to sleep, was slowly working it into the palm of her hand.    
  
Anders stroked Catalina’s hair, wrapping one of her curls around his finger. He felt her breathing slow as she gave into sleep. In her sleep, she curled up nearer to him and snuggled her head deeper into his lap. Anders closed his eyes, a war raging within. Cat—no,  Hawke.  
  
She is Catalina  
 _Hawke._

Cat

_Kitty._  
  
In the darkness of the deep roads, his Cat was opening to him like a flower opens to the sun, and he didn’t deserve it. Maker, he wanted it and he wanted her. This unexpected and sudden intimacy was not helping the just side win the war. He didn’t deserve Cat, nor Catalina, nor Hawke. Catalina Hawke deserved someone so much more than what he had to offer. Stupid, stupid stupid Anders! He choked back a cry as his mind conjured images of her with another man--an elf, and then a repentant prince--Hawke being someone else’s little Kitty.  
  
Anders opened his eyes, dispelling away the images and looked down at his blushing magical Cat. He lost his fingers in her curls as he let out a small groan. Maker, forgive him for this-- It may make him an even worse person, and he definitely felt like a monster and thief for stealing away these moments with her not knowing what she was blindly giving him. He loved her—Catalina Hawke, all of her. Cat was the one making him realize this, and he knew it was wrong, but he was willing to treasure these moments away so they would last him the lifetime he had left.


	14. Stolen Hope

They had made it back from the Deep Roads.

It had gone remarkably well, especially since Anders stole little moments in the night with Cat. Then Bartrand happened—his betrayal costing them more time and danger to their lives in their escape from the Deep. Varric never seemed so angry and Hawke seemingly took the news in stride.

Anders and Varric had walked Hawke home and then made their way to The Hanged Man. Varric offered to buy Anders a drink, but to make peace with Justice, Anders refused ale and sipped tea instead.  
  
Isabela appeared at Varric’s table as the drinks arrived and helped herself to one on his tab. Where Isabela showed up, there would be ale and cards. A couple of hands later they were playing another round when Cat stalked into the Hanged Man.  
  
Anders watched as Hawke slammed her palms against the wooden table, anger and despair raging in her eyes but her voice so even and neutral as she said, “The Templars have taken Bethany.”


	15. Disappearing Hope

> "The treasure we found in the Deep Roads made us a fortune. The Champion moved up in the world. Literally. Bought a mansion in Hightown. Everyone knew who she was now. Even the Viscount was taking notice. Bethany was in the Circle, now. There was nothing we could do for her, poor girl. Three years later, the Qunari still hadn’t left. The Quanri insisted they were waiting for their ship. But some of us knew better…"

The Hanged Man seemed to be the central hub of Hawke’s companions. It was Varric’s home, Isabela’s harbor and they didn’t seem to mind the rowdiness that followed Hawke through the door whenever she came through—in other words, it was a second home.   
  
Aveline had called all of Hawke’s companions to meet, and Varric offered the privacy of his quarters. Five of them sat in the room, a place they had been to before but this time it felt different. This time there was a tension in the air and no one could explain why. Varric sat at the head of the table, Bianca near him—every now and then the dwarf’s hand reached out and stroked the wood. Isabela sat on the table, her feet planted between Fenris and Merrill as she sat fidgeting dangerously with one of her many daggers. The two elves watched her: Fenris waiting to see if Isabela would end up cutting herself, and Merrill admiring Isabela’s nimble grace. Anders leaned against the wall, as he watched the other four and waited for Aveline to arrive.  
  
The Guard Captain came through Varric’s door, and Isabela turned her head to tease her but her mouth closed before a syllable could escape. Anders had to raise an eyebrow in disbelief—Aveline and Isabela trading spars was part of the fun of being around the two. As if the others felt the disbelief of Isabela not saying a word, they all turned to face Aveline. Her face was tight with concern—worry, really. Her eyes swept the room as she took attendance of everyone.

Seeing that they were all there, she slumped against the doorway and delivered her news: “Hawke’s gone.”   
  
“Gone? Where would she have gone to? Are you sure she just didn’t step out for something?“ Merrill asked as Fenris merely shook his head at her.   
  
“Perhaps you should explain.” Fenris turned his attention to Aveline, his simple words pressing her for details of what exactly was going on.  
  
“She’s missing.”  
  
“Well then, big girl, go and find her.” Isabela snickered, trying to relieve the heavy tension filling the room so much so that there was barely any space left for each member of the group as they processed the news.  
  
Aveline merely looked at her, no amusement in her eyes as she began to give the details that she had discovered throughout the day: Leandra had thought that Aveline knew, or at least Isabela or Varric. She hadn’t thought anything of it until Aveline had stopped by the mansion, seeking out Hawke for a favor and to deliver the Viscount’s summons.   
  
Aveline had questioned Bodahn, seeing if maybe Hawke had left a message of what she was doing or where she was going—there was none to be had. He did tell Aveline that Hawke patted Havoc on the head, telling the mabari to watch over Mother, Bodahn and Sandal while she was away. She then nodded to Bodahn and left. That was four days ago.   
  
Anders left his perch against the wall and joined the others at the table as Aveline continued on with her details: She inspected Hawke’s correspondence and study—she found no letters or suspicious notes. The two things she did find is what was worrying her, and was the impetus for gathering them together to deliver the news: Hawke had left her armor and weapon behind.  
  
“Okay, Hawke’s gone. But she’s got more than one set of armor, and she has more swords than just the one.” Varric leaned forward, his elbows on the table and fingers laced.   
  
Even though they all nodded their head at the logic of Varric’s statement, they also knew that there was a reason why Aveline thought those left behind belongings were serious enough to call everyone together suddenly: her armor and sword were very much a part of Hawke. Leaving her sword or armor behind would be like Varric abandoning Bianca or Isabela never mentioning the sea.   
  
Varric sighed, “So, what’s your plan?”  
  
Aveline looked lost, which shocked everyone in the room—Aveline did not like not knowing what lay ahead or the steps that had led to a matter. She was methodical, and Hawke disappearing did not fit into any equation she was aware of. “We do like Isabela said: we search for her and find her.”  
  
“That’s me, I’m a helper” Isabela quipped, trying to break the concerned silence sweeping over them all.  
  
They had a plan; they would search the three areas main area that they knew Hawke knew well: The Bone Pits, Sundermount and The Wounded Coast. If she had been in Kirkwall, Aveline would have found her using her guards and contacts. Varric would see if his contacts knew anything and Isabela would help him search The Bone Pits. Fenris and Merrill agreed to search Sundermount—though Merrill wasn’t sure what kind of welcome her clan would give them.  
  
Anders volunteered to search the Wounded Coast. Aveline told him that if he would wait, she would accompany him but he shook his head. “I’m never really alone,” he joked as he headed out the door before she could press it any further.  
  
Anders felt like he knew where he would find Cat. He knew the time of year it was, and what she did every year since Bethany was taken to the circle; she was just usually back by now so that none of her companions knew better. But he always knew. He gathered a small pack, a small satchel with bandages, herbs and potions and tools to aid him in healing. Anders didn’t have much coin—he spent whatever he got on the clinic and supplies. Still, when he stopped by Lirene’s to let her know he’d be gone, and that people were being directed her way; he also asked what he could get for a” quick overnight herb gathering trip” knowing that she would make sure he left with something.  
  
He paid a quick visit to Varric to let him know that he was on his way to the Wounded Coast. If anything were to happen, he knew Varric could judge how much time to give before telling Aveline when he had left and when to look for him.  
  
As Anders began his journey to the coast, he began to lose himself in thought: Did the others really not remember?   
  
They do not know or acknowledge the suffering of mages. They would not remember the date of another mage’s capture.   
  
_But she wasn’t just another mage—she was Bethany Hawke, Lady Sunshine._

 


	16. Silence of Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders remembers the night he, Fenris, Varric and Hawke returned from the Deep Roads.
> 
> !Some lines may TRIGGER!

Anders remembered that night: it was the same as when they had returned from the Deep Roads. He was with Varric and Isabela in the Hanged Man. He was losing horribly to Isabela at Wicked Grace, and Varric was enjoying the entertainment of watching Isabela cheat and tease Anders. Cat had stormed in, the madness in her eyes but the eerie sound of neutrality in her voice when she simply said, “The Templars have taken Bethany to the Circle.”  
  
Isabela hugged Hawke to her, while Varric stood cursing Bartrand under his breath. Anders, sat silently at the table, staring down at the weathered wood. To some he would have seemed so unfeeling, but he was attempting to control the rage that was unspooling inside. He didn’t want anyone to see the flash of Vengeance that shined through his eyes, revealing what lay just beneath the surface.  
  
Hawke seemed almost mechanical in movement, but it was in her eyes and face that they could see the emotions roiling beneath her surface. Varric and Anders left Cat in Isabela’s care and went to get Fenris and Merrill. They debated on getting Aveline—she was a family friend. Varric even remembered one drunken night when Hawke had half a glass of ale and told almost each and every one of them how much she cared for them, and that Aveline and Isabela were like sisters to her; she was so lucky to have three sisters. What kept them from getting Aveline was the fact that they had plans to come up with a way to free Bethany—not something the Guard Captain of Kirkwall needs to be privy to.   
  
Ultimately it wouldn’t matter; in the end, when they finally went to the Keep to tell Aveline—she had already left for the Hanged Man when she got the report of what mages were taken into the Circle—into the wretched Gallows.  
  
They all gathered around Varric’s table, like they had done earlier this evening and like they’ll most likely do again in the future. Cat sat there, back and shoulders straight, staring straight ahead as Varric gave a short summary of what had happened in the Deep Roads that caused them to return later than planned. Anders noticed that throughout Varric’s summary, Cat kept one of her hands fisted—it was then that he noticed that she had on only one of her armored gauntlets and her free hand was even free of the gloves she usually wore underneath her plate. Her balled hand was contracted so tightly that her knuckles had gone white—Anders was sure her nails must be biting into her palm.  
  
Everyone had grown silent after Varric’s summary, most looking at Anders waiting for him to say and suggest some sort of action. Isabela seeing that Anders didn’t intend on saying anything then spoke up, “So, how do we help her get out?”  
  
“We don’t.”   
  
Five heads snapped to look at Hawke as she swallowed the impact those two words had on her companions. Anders hadn’t looked at her; he wasn’t surprised. The way Cat had carried herself, and the way she delivered the news told him enough: there would be no attempts at escape.  
  
He watched her as she released the tension in her hand, fingers uncurling, and color slowly returning to them. He noticed that her ‘wisp’ began dancing along those knuckles as she started to relay what happened—her explanation as to why there would be no plans for an escape.  
  
They were there when she had gotten to Gamlen’s; Knight Captain Cullen and one other Templar standing there, watching and waiting to escort Bethany to the Gallows and the Circle. Gamlen and her mother, standing there helpless. She heard Havoc clawing from behind a shut door. Bethany had to have been the one to lock him in—he would have attacked anyone else who would have attempted to keep him from his family.   
  
Hawke had demanded to know what was going on, Bethany was the first to answer her-- Bethany, dressed in Circle robes complete with a stave marked of and from the Circle. Anders remembered the pain that turned into heavy nothing as Cat related Bethany’s words to her—her first words to her sister that she hadn’t seen in weeks: “Please don’t do anything.”  
  
Knight Captain Cullen then took authority, “Mistress Bethany is being taken to the Circle of Magi in The Gallows.”   
  
“Over my dead body.” Anders knew Cat, knew that she wouldn’t-- couldn’t do what her sister first requested—not do anything. Of course Hawke would confront Cullen.  
  
Bethany had stepped between Hawke and Cullen, “It’s done. Don’t make it worse.”   
  
Cat looked so crestfallen as she relayed Bethany’s words, how Bethany seemed resigned to the fate of the Circle, telling their mother that she would be fine, and finally telling Hawke to look after Mother.  
  
Everyone sat in silence after Cat told her short tale. Anders had watched how Cat moved the token over her knuckles again and again with skill, her body’s muscles engaging in memory—how often had she sought solace in that token? When Anders did look at Cat’s face, her eyes were dark pools of nothingness, her face showing no emotion. The token continued to dance, again and again.   
  
“We have to do something.” Fenris was the first to break the silence.  
  
“No.” Hawke had whispered the word, but it rang in everyone’s ears. “She asked for me to not do anything. She asked that I don’t make it worse.”   
  
Anders noticed the rhythm of the token had changed, and on the word ‘worse’—even through Cat’s soft voice was so smooth and neutral, the token began to fall as her hand had trembled. Anders watched its descent over the smooth skin of her hand. He sat there expecting to hear the sound of metal on the wooden floor, but Cat’s quick fingers caught it before it had a chance to taste much the cold air away from her warm flesh.  
  
Varric bought drinks for everyone with strict orders to Norah to keep them coming. Anders even took a pint of watered down ale, and noticed that Hawke did not refuse the one that was placed in front of her. She seemed to match his movements in nursing the drink as the others began to pile pint after pint in front of them. Even proper Aveline had a couple of pints.  
  
Anders didn’t remember the conversation going on around him. He had kept his eyes on Cat. She sat there as he did, part of the group but alone—she kept the token dancing on the back of her hand the entire time at the table.  
***

  
Anders looked around at his surroundings as he neared the coast. She would be here; it’s just a matter of where on the coast. Anders tried to think of all the potential spots she could be: the encampments often used by mercenaries, thugs, thieves and runaways. The caves that they had cleared of Tal-Vashoth and slavers. He would search each place, one by one until he found her or any sign of her.  
  
He continued to think about that night three years ago. Most of them tried to drown their sorrow until they were good and sloshed. He still had his first pint in front of him; Justice would never allow him to enjoy drink like he used to. It dulled the sense and there was no point in it. He had been surprised he did not have to put up a fight for the little bit of ale he put down that night. Mugs seemed to pile up in front of Cat, though he didn’t recall seeing her drink them. The two of them, sat there—she lost in her own world and he watching her, wanting to be a part of that world but knowing that he should not.  
  
He remembered hearing bawdy laughter from a group of men in the main room of the tavern. Their voices loud and easily carried over the other merry makes in the Hanged Man that night. His ears rang with their words:  
  
“They had a pretty one going in today.”   
“Aye, dark haired and soft pale skin. That one Templar, Calvin?—the Ferelden. He’s too nice to’em.—such a waste treatin’em like people.”  
  
Anders had felt Justice rising, a force of Vengeance feeding off of his anger—a burning righteousness crackling beneath the surface of his skin, eager to break through and be freed. His hand gripped the pint of ale in front of him.  
  
“Stock.--Them mage bitches out to be used to breed more Templars—make him useful”  
“Takes how magic was made to serve man to another level”  
“I’d join that—“  
  
Anders wasn’t sure how, but he heard the token fall over all the noise: the sound of a coin rolling and spinning until it fell flat. He looked up and Cat wasn’t there anymore. There was a commotion in the main room, and he followed Varric and Fenris out of the room. He looked out and saw that Hawke was in the middle of a group of men, her face hard and her movements quick.   
  
He only blinked and he saw two or three men slumped against a wall, another was pulled down incredibly close to Hawke’s face and he heard her growl, “Want to be used for breeding do you?” and saw the glint of a dagger pressed against the man’s thigh.   
  
Varric and Fenris quickly went to Hawke’s side; Varric trying to insert himself between her and the target of her quiet rage. Fenris stood behind the man, hands on his shoulders, trying to slowly pull him away from Cat’s grasp.   
  
“Now, Hawke…we’ve all had a little too much ale. Let’s not spill blood over drunken words that nobody’s going to remember tomorrow.” Cat slowly released her hold on the collar of the man’s jerkin.   
  
She said nothing but began to turn away.   
  
Anders had heard Isabela’s curse behind him, “Blessed Andraste’s flaming tits! That was close.”

He looked over her shoulder and gave her a nod of agreement. As he turned back to watch and make sure no one attacked Cat as she was backing away, one of the men had to go and be a fool in attempted bravado.  
  
“Maybe relations of mages ought to be used too, breed the magic right out of the line. Ain’t that right boys?”   
  
Anders shook his head in disbelief as he felt Isabela’s hot puff of breath as she said the following word like a prayer: “Balls.” The two of them headed down the small flight of steps into the main room, preparing allies in a fight that could have been so easily prevented.  
  
It seemed as if no one really moved--no one except for Hawke. She quickly moved past Varric and pushed past Fenris as she lunged after her target. All of her companions knew that they needed to stop Hawke before she hurt anyone only to regret it once her mind had returned. Anders tapped into his mana, while Isabela drew her daggers and mentally marked which man she would draw out and attack. Aveline pushed her way through the room, making her presence as Guard Captain known.   
  
Most people stepped back when they noticed Aveline standing there, staring almost everyone down with a glare of authority. Anders had to give that to her, she played the role of Guard Captain well. A man’s panicked voice called out, “By the Void, help!”   
  
Cat had the offensive scoundrel in her sights, and the man sobered up enough to figure out he was in serious trouble and had tried putting distance between them. She threw a dagger at him, piercing him in the shoulder and throwing him off balance so he stumbled against the wall. She stalked towards him, closing the distance.   
  
There was a flash, a glow of blue and Anders heard Fenris familiar rumblings as he tapped into the power his lyrium markings gave him. Anders wanted to attack Fenris, to protect Cat and had a fireball ready at his fingertips before reason kicked in and he understood that Fenris wouldn’t hurt her. He just needed to stop her.  
  
Watching Cat at that moment was like watching a nightmare—wicked visions sent from the Fade to taunt him about his own possession. Her eyes were bright and lifeless at the same time, so dark like a cloak of gloom covering all the light that she was. Her face was motionless, no muscle moved in betrayal of her moves. Hawke’s body tensed and moved like a predator. She looked through Fenris, past him and at her prey. Fenris moved to attack and to Anders shock, Fenris was knocked back away from Hawke, the tapped power of his markings fading instead of burning bright.  
  
Cat had another dagger in her hand, her prowl taking her closer to the frightened man. Aveline and Isabela rushed her, grabbing her arms and pulling them behind her, they called to her: “Hawke, stop.”   
  
“You don’t want to do this, pigeon.”   
  
Varric again tried to put himself in front of Hawke and her mark, his voice adding, “Think of Sunshine.”   
  
It was if Cat heard nothing; her steps slow but still moving her forward, dragging Aveline and Isabela behind her. Aveline let go and steadied herself to hit Hawke on the back of the head, hoping to knock her out.  
  
 Anders heard Justice’s deep timbre echo in his ears as he growled “No-”   
  
Anders took a deep breath, and softening his voice simply said, “Cat. Stop. Don’t make it worse.”  
  
He hated to do that to her, to echo her sister’s words when Cat was so obviously in pain—but he knew it was the only way to stop her and her rage at the moment. Indeed, Cat stopped mid-step and stared at the man cowering before her. Isabela let go of Cat’s arms, leaving them free. Cat’s eyes narrowed as she threw the dagger at her prey, the blade piercing the wall by one of his ears.  
  
“Next time, I won’t aim for wood.”  
  
She turned around and walked towards the stairs and back into Varric’s quarters. The main room sat in the shocked silence that fills the hole left behind by danger as it suddenly disappears. Varric stood, helping the men that Hawke had thrown earlier up from the floor—glaring at each of them. Aveline exuded authority, keeping people from questioning as she walked over and helped Fenris up and make his way to the stairs as he was holding his side.   
  
He spent most of the night at Varric’s, checking over each of member of the group, healing whatever needed to be done. He wasn’t sure how, but Cat had broken one of Fenris’ ribs—it had to have been from his impact at being thrown. Both he and Fenris seemed shocked that she stopped him with such ease.   
  
Cat said nothing the rest of that night. Not even when Anders looked her over, his long fingers running over her arms and shoulders, checking to see if Aveline or Isabela had accidentally done any damage trying to keep her from attacking that idiotic man. Cat didn’t seem to see anyone—except for one time: when Anders took the wrist of her ungloved hand, tracing arced scars in the palm of her hand with his fingertips.   
  
She had turned and looked up at him, her eyes softening and he saw the door to her locked emotions start to crack. He watched Cat blink and Hawke’s eyes stared back at him, the crack gone and the dim dark taking over her usually soft and bright orbs. Still holding Hawke’s hand, he knelt down and picked up the token of her father. Standing he pressed it into her palm; Cat’s fingers slowly teased and felt the inside of Anders’ wrist before she let go and started to make the token dance.


	17. Renewing Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Catalina Hawke find each other.

It was getting to be the second nightfall he had spent on the Wounded Coast. He had a couple more places to check, but decided to check and make camp at one spot he felt would at least have signs of Cat being there. A small cave, atop a crag—situated between two open camps. Cat had once remarked how that cave had potential. Everyone had laughed, thinking she was joking, but Anders saw how she looked around sizing the potential of the cave itself. He had thought nothing more of it, but earlier during the day Justice had reminded him. Anders knew he should have checked this site first, and then worked from there.  
  
He came upon the cave as the sun began to set. He began to walk in, stopping when it was dark enough for his eyes to need to adjust. He made out no figures in the dark. Not knowing whether to be happy or disappointed, he put down his pack, and heard his name being called.  
  
“Warden…Warden Anders-- come join me watch the sunset.”   
  
His eyes opened wide; that voice, the soft lilt bringing forth images of a small lopsided smile. He had found her, Cat. He approached the opening of the cave hoping to see her. Instead, he saw her profile—she was standing at the edge of the crag, looking to the west. Her arms were crossed across her chest, though she turned to look over at him. She gave him a smile, her arms unfolding as she pointed towards the sunset. He hurried to her side and watched the warm colors melt into each other and fade as the glowing orb fell behind the horizon. They stood silently, watching and waiting as the last remnants of light ceded way to the gentler caress of the light that shone from the moon. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning her head against him.   
  
Cat desperately wanted Anders to pull her in closer, hug her and kiss her like he was afraid that he had lost her. She knew that it would never happen. She all too clearly remembered the warning in Justice’s voice, and the pain in Anders face at having to reject her. She quietly took this moment and held onto it for as long as she could.   
  
Anders did want to hug her—to wrap her small frame in his and kiss her within an inch of her life. He was still afraid of losing her—losing Cat to herself like he almost did the night that Bethany was taken to the Circle. The night that Cat was out here punishing herself for.  
  
Anders released Cat, and she let her arm slowly slide from his waist as she stepped away, facing out north, staring into the dark at the sea. He saw her small frame tremble. He began to unbuckle his coat; it may look worn and it was a bit ragged—but it would keep her warm until he got her into the cave. Anders shrugged it off of his shoulders and onto her smaller ones, the edge of the coat nearly brushing the sand—reminding him of how short she was.   
  
She felt the weight of his coat fall on her shoulders; it was still warm with his body heat. She wanted to refuse the coat-- to let it fall; she wanted to envelop herself in his coat and get lost in his scent. Instead, she crossed one arm against her chest, her left hand feeling the feathered pauldrons, her fingertips brushing against his before they could leave her. Cat wondered if Anders felt the spark that seemed to jump between them—it wasn’t a spark of magic that mages wielded, it was the spark of attraction, of love. She played with the inside of her lip, knowing that he wouldn’t leave her out here alone. He had come looking for her, and knew her well enough to know what places to check.  
  
Anders backed away from Cat—he did feel that spark. Even though she had gone missing, even though he knew the reason she ran away and was doing this to herself, finding her and feeling that spark made him want her more than ever. To take her here, in the spot she ran to—to be her refuge and love. He shook his head clear of his wants—she deserved more than what he could offer.  
  
“Back to the cave for the night?” He asked, worrying about her getting chilled, ignoring the cold nipping at him.  
  
“If you want a fire, no. You can build one out here, but that cave doesn’t lend itself well to fire. It’s mainly shelter from wind and rain.”   
  
She turned her head in his direction, and saw him move to the open encampment that was close to her. Her eyes adjusted to the warm glow put off by the firelight, and she ignored the warm invitation its flames were sending out to her. She took one last feel of Anders’ coat, one last breath of him and tossed it at him.  
  
Anders caught his coat, not sure why Cat returned it. He could guess that she was denying herself comfort—but he didn’t know for sure. He looked up at Cat, as she stood staring out into the dark. His eyes raked over her body, and it was then that he noticed what she was wearing: the leathers that she usually wore underneath her hard armor. Something was different.   
  
She’s seen battle.  
  
Justice was right; the leather was scraped, pierced and ripped in places. Her linen tunic she wore beneath her leather corset seemed to be in rags held together by sheer will and the corset itself. Her leggings had dark bloodstained splotches. Cat turned and faced him.  
  
“Maker! Cat what happened? Why didn’t you bring your armor, your weapon? Why are you out here?”  
  
Hawke gave a harsh laugh, “I think you know why, Anders.”   
  
She looked down at the ground not wanting to look him in the eye. He had taken in the state of her clothing from the back and maybe the side. She wondered what he would say when he noticed the state of the front of her clothes.  
  
 _Anders. She called me Anders._   
That is your name is it not?   
_That’s not the point._   
  
When they were alone, before the expedition and even in the Deep—she would call him Warden, a smile teasing her lips and a sparkle lighting her eyes. He was Anders when they were around others, or she didn’t feel close to him.   
  
Then it is a good thing.   
  
Sadness flooded Anders as he simply shook his head. He looked up at her, finally examining her as she dug her toe into the sand.  
  
“Cat, what the hell--!” He stood up and began to move towards her when she held out her hand to stop him. Anders paused, fighting against his instincts to go to her anyway and take care of her wounds.   
  
Time, wait.    
  
Anders was surprised at Justice’s response, but knew that it was the best recourse. He hung his head as if in defeat, and folded his tall frame to sit by the fire. Anders continued to look at Hawke and the damage that had been done over days.   
  
There was a wound along her jaw on the right side of her face; a gash screamed at him from the right side of her rib cage, the leather of her corset having been ripped away. Her tunic looked worse in the front than it had in the back, he could make out where it had been ripped in fights, had been sliced open by a weapon, and where there was dried blood—probably hiding other wounds along her collar bone, and her upper arm. His jaw clenched.  
  
Cat watched as Anders assessed her clothing, and tried to guess what injuries she had and those she was hiding from him still. She watched as he set his jaw, fighting with himself to say something. She cocked her head to one side and asked, “Why do you think that I’m out here?”  
  
Anders looked at her dead on, he wanted to grab her, hug her, heal her and then hurt her for doing such a stupid thing and for getting hurt like she did. She walked closer to the fire, and sat across from him. It wasn’t a challenge; it was more like she was trying to make a certain peace with him.   
  
“It’s the anniversary of when we came back from the Deep Roads—when Bethany—“  
  
“When I let Bethany get taken away to the circle.” Cat finished for him.   
  
She watched his face in the firelight, how his features seem to soften as he processed what she had said. She brought out and flipped her father’s token into the air, catching it on the back of her hand, and with a quick movement, brought it to her knuckles to begin the soothing rhythm of it flitting back and forth.  
  
“For a clumsy warrior, you seem to be agile and nimble enough for tricks like those.” Anders smiled at Cat, hoping to find her—Kitty, looking back at him.   
  
He hadn’t seen her since that flash in the Hanged Man three years ago. He had seen Hawke hundreds of times since then, but not the Cat he had gotten to know in the Deep. Was that Cat just a haunting dream that he brought back with him so it could torment him now?  
  
Cat gave Anders a lopsided grin, her hand still rolling the coin. “I didn’t always train to be a warrior, you know?”   
  
Anders cocked an eyebrow at her. Cat sighed and flipped the token over the fire and towards Anders. He quickly put out his long arms and caught the coin in the palm of his hand, and held it up for her to see with a wink. Cat’s grin turned into a genuine smile, and Anders held onto that sight—Cat wasn’t a dream, she had just ran away for three years.  
  
Cat kept the fire between her and Anders. She needed to confess her guilt, and she didn’t want the pain of him pulling away from her—if she kept distance between them, then that was one less piece of heartbreak to deal with. Kitty wanted to share herself with him—she felt that he would understand. Or least he wouldn’t look at her with pity in his eyes. She just didn’t know where to begin.  
  
He had seen the smile spread across her face and then melt away into—something, worry or the feeling of being unsure. He wanted desperately to get Cat back again, “So, are you telling me you weren’t a little girl in braids swinging a stick like a sword?”   
  
Anders pretended to wave a mock sword in front of him. Kitty rewarded him with another smile—the kind he imagined she gave as a child—innocent and so full of sunshine and promise.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t know? All those times you visited Bethany, she didn’t tell you the embarrassing stories of her older sister?” Immediately, Cat regretted her words as she watched the look on Anders’ face change from friendly teasing to a look of having been slapped.

She wanted to soothe him, and tried by finally apologizing to him: “I’m sorry, you know. That I didn’t stop the Templars from taking her away, from me and from--” Cat had started saying something before she realized what it was she was saying; she bit her lip, before finally uttering, “--you. I’m sorry I let them take her away from you”  
  
Don’t say anything.  
 _I won’t lie to her_  
You don’t have to. Let her believe what she will with your silence.  
  
“No.” Cat looked up at Anders’ direct command. He gave her a shy smile in apology to his direct abruptness. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.” It was his turn to raise his hand to stop her from interrupting. “There was only really one lady Hawke I wanted to see; it’s just that her sister always seemed to be at home more.”   
  
Anders held his breath as he waited to hear Cat’s reaction; he heard her sharp intake of breath. He looked up to see her eyes watching him, widening as her mind processed what he said. Cat’s eyes met Anders, and then she quickly looked away.  
  
Well, _at least she didn’t runaway screaming._  
 She does not fit in with our mission.  
 _Cat fits in more than you realize._  
  
Cat felt her face warm, she wanted to blame it on the fire, but knew it was a blush crossing her cheeks. It seemed like the last time that happened was so long ago—three years. Even though it embarrassed her greatly, she was happy to feel the rosy flush color her cheeks. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of distraction. She stared at her fingers, before finally pulling her knees to under her chin and asked, “Do you really want to know why I’m here?”  
  
“I want to know everything you’re willing to share with me.” _And more, I’m hungry to know you and find my Kitty again._ Anders stared across the fire at Cat, willing her to look in his eyes and find all the things he wouldn’t let himself say.

She looked at him, eyes wide and her dark chocolate pools bubbling forth with emotion as she did what she dared to do in the Deep—Kitty revealed herself to Anders.


	18. Second Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina Hawke shares a long buried guilt.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING

Do you remember, that token was my father’s? Look at it, at the scratches on it. One side bears the mark of Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi. The other side was originally smooth—Father had scratched the Templar emblem onto that side. He did it to illustrate a point.  
  
Mages and Templars are people. They seem directly opposed to each other sometimes, but ultimately, they are two sides to the same ‘coin.’ Power is given to both mages and Templars—one by birth, the other by religious or divine right. Sometimes, it is the mages who hold the balance and others it is the Templars—nature and its forces would see to it that both sides had equal numbers of being in power. It’s just sometimes, you get a run of one side and it seems like that side is the one side that controls everything—yet ultimately, it is the same coin.   
  
When my father first tried explaining this point to me, I didn’t understand. I thought it was some elaborate lesson in numbers and flipping coins. But as I got older and saw how mages were treated, and saw how Templars were treated I began to understand. We all suffer when we categorize everyone the same way—all Templars are power hungry idiots, and all mages deal with demons. None of that is true; they are just false absolutes.   
  
Bethany was nine when I began to look at the world differently. I was almost fifteen, and had been training with daggers—much to my mother’s dismay. Carver wanted to be a warrior, and because of my habit of rolling that token, I decided to hone my agility and nimbleness and train as a rogue. Bethany was trained by Father in magic, and Mother began training her to be a lady—Mother had long given up on me acting as a lady.  
  
We were out one day—Bethany and I. It was a beautiful day; I remember that much—We came across this man and a little boy, the boy was hurt. He was unable to walk, and we stopped to see if we could help. I had told them that my sister had a little bit of first aid training and might be able to wrap the ankle if we had the material for a bandage. She didn’t know better—all she knew was that she could make the boy feel better and help him. Bethany healed him. She had healed before, and people always seemed so grateful and kept our secret. Not this time.  
  
The boy was happy, and pleased enough. The man told him to run on home to his parents. I started to make my way between the man and Bethany. He knew he had to deal with me—I didn’t like the way he was looking at her. The same way I had seen starving children looking at fresh baked bread.   
  
I turned my back to him, and told Bethany to go to the Chantry. There was a bard visiting and Bethany loved to hear the stories—I knew she would go without a fight. I watched her go, then turned and faced this stranger. His smile that seemed so nice before was dark and sinister. He made the expected threat: to turn my sister into the Templars. He was bigger than me, he was an adult and I was almost fiftenn but still, fourteen—but I quickly learned how the world worked. I asked what he wanted in return for his silence, fully expecting the answer he gave.  
  
Had I been older, I may have killed him. I was still unsure of my abilities—I had several practice backstabs go wrong. I knew I couldn’t overtake this man with just my daggers alone. So I went where he directed me—this barn that wasn’t too far away. I had passed it many times before, but now it seemed so ominous.

  
**  
Kitty stopped in the unspooling of her tale, and looked up from the fire. She saw Anders, still sitting there; head hung low listening to her tale. He glanced up when she didn’t continue, and she saw the concern on his face. She saw how his hands were gripping his thighs, and wondered if that was Justice she saw changing the hue of those honey colored eyes. Kitty gave Anders a weak smile and continued.  
  
**  
  
It was a little after noon when we headed into the barn. As time went on, I could tell it was growing dark. My lip was bloodied—I kept biting it to keep from screaming and crying. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Throughout the time in the barn I paid for my sister’s freedom.   
  
He had bound my hands with my tunic, and had me kneel and turn in any way he wanted me. One way was facing away from him so he could whip me. I lost count after twenty lashes. I felt the blood run down my back. His hands were rough, like a laborer's hands but not as kind, and he took no kindness as he fondled me. He pressed my back against the wooden wall of the barn; the welts from the whip burned me with pain as skin hit wood. I felt the splintered grain dig into where the whip had ripped my flesh.   
  
I couldn’t help it then, no matter how hard I bit my lip, and I couldn’t stop myself. I gave out a yelp—a sharp high pitched noise. He laughed, pressing me harder against the wood, slamming my head against the wall to make me open my eyes and look at him. I knew he wasn’t done with me. He was just starting. He grabbed me from the wall and bent me over a haystack. I remember his words, the only words I remember him saying to me in that place: I was his mabari bitch that needed breeding.   
  
Maybe it was the loss of blood from where he rubbed me against the wood or maybe it was the anxiousness of waiting for him to finish what he started and take his payment in full, but I felt light headed, and the room started to spin. I thought I heard a growl and a man scream. Then the room went black.


	19. Reactions and Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina waits for Anders' response.

Kitty made herself look at Anders. She had never told anyone what had happened to her. What she did so Bethany wouldn’t have to face doing it, so Bethany could be safe. She raised her head and searched across the fire but didn’t find him there—it was her worse fear; she revealed something that affected her so much and it made people run away from her.  
  
We are still here.  
  
 She heard the deep timbre close to her ear and jumped, her hand automatically coming up and grasping at the face there, her small framing launching itself at the person who had snuck up on her, pinning their hips with her thighs, dagger pressed against the soft flesh of their throat.  
  
She felt the crackle of electricity in the air and felt it race through her; she squeezed her thighs together and focused sending out a circle of neutrality, she rolled over her enemy, and landed in a crouch, daggers ready as her eyes focused on her prey.  
  
Oh Maker, no! It was Anders!  
  
She dropped her daggers, and rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, and looked down into his face. His eyes were a dangerous blue but there was grin on his face, and she heard Anders’ gentle voice laughing. Cat grabbed his hand, and called to him. Still, he lay there. The laughter had stopped, his eyes had closed but the grin remained. She felt panic threaten to overtake her.  
  
She never meant to harm him, she was just protecting herself. She called to him again, rubbing his hand, pressing the back of it to her face and still she got no response. She mounted him, straddling his waist as she shook his shoulders hoping he’d come to.  
  
“Do you promise to wake me up like this every morning?” Anders opened his eyes, gazing up at her as his hands gingerly placed themselves on her thighs. Kitty laughed, relief washing over her in such a rush, she bent over and brushed her lips against his. His fingers dug into her thighs, as his lips enticed hers to stay.  
  
She knows Templar abilities.  
  
Cat felt the change in Anders and pulled away. She leapt to her feet, and moved to place the fire between them.  
  
Cat still felt the heat of his hands on her thighs, the feel of his lips against hers, the tickling scratch of his stubble. She had just revealed a well hidden part of herself, a traumatic part, and at the moment, she was feeling nothing but desire. Kitty closed her eyes, hoping to calm herself; her lips still relishing in the feeling of having been brushed against his.  
  
Anders sat up, and stared after Cat. She refused to meet his eyes, but did manage to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Anders. I just thought you were still across from me and when I looked you weren’t there and I thought you left but then I heard a voice right by my ear and I just reacted—I don’t know…”  
  
She finally looked into Anders’ eyes. He gave her a lop-sided smile, revealing a dimple. Cat stared at that dimple and held on to it like a lifeline.  
  
“My fault. I should have known better than to have moved beside you.”  
  
“Oh no! It wasn’t that you were beside me, it was—I was just so caught up in the memory—“  
  
“And I had been too silent, so you--”  
  
“Just reacted.” She gave an embarrassed shrug.

Anders watched as Cat nervously bit and played with her lips. Anders wondered what it would be like to bite her lip like that. He remembered the brush of those lips against his, and felt the familiar longing that Kitty Hawke had caused in him ever since the first night she came to his clinic.  
  
He stood up, and stretched—mentally checking himself to see if any harm had been done. There was a small scratch on his neck where she had placed the edge of her dagger—but it was small and could easily be taken care of—later, he decided.  
  
She watched him stretch and then walk over to sit beside her. He held out his hand to her, and she tentatively placed one of hers in his. He placed his other hand over hers, and looked deeply into her eyes.  
  
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. That was and will never be your fault.” Kitty tugged at her hand, but gave up as she felt Anders’ fingertips trace small circles on the underside of her wrist, soothing her.  
  
“I should have known better.”  
  
She looked so sad and guilty, that he tugged her close to him, and wrapped an arm around her. He kept her hand in one of his. “What happened when you woke up?”


	20. A Token has Two Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina finishes her second confession.

I felt pain in my back. I woke up in a strange room, lying on my belly. At first I had thought that the man wasn’t finished with me. But then I made out that a woman’s voice was talking to me. There was a basin of water beside me, and I saw her hand reach in and take a cloth—she was cleaning my wounds.  
  
The owners of the barn had found me. It was dumb luck—they had a mabari who recently had pups. Though the pups were old enough to be given away, the mother would still go and patrol the barn since that is where she first had them. When I had let out that yelp, it was enough like one of her pups that she raced to protect me. The woman of the house had been walking with the dog, and so had chased after it when it broke into a run. She followed it into the barn and heard the man screaming. I had asked her what happened to him, but she told me not to worry about it—he wouldn’t be hurting anyone like he was about to do to me ever again because Mittens-- the mother mabari-- had seen to that.  
  
She had called her husband to deal with the man, and Mittens and she brought me into their home. She cleaned me up and made sure I was comfortable enough to rest. What she was doing as I was waking up was checking my wounds again—cleaning them so I wouldn’t get infected. She asked me for my name, if I had any parents. I told her my name and then broke down crying, begging her not to tell my parents what happened. That it was my fault, and I didn’t want them to know.   
  
I remember she ran her fingers through my hair, and shushed me. Her eyes were a big beautiful blue, and she smiled at me—it was gentle but sad. She got me to say my father’s name, and told me that she would send a message to him that I was okay and where I was so he could come and get me. I nodded my head, and she was about to go when I grabbed her wrist and forced myself to ask the question I dreaded knowing the answer to: had that man finished what he set out to do; taken the only thing I'd ever have to offer to one I loved?  
  
 She looked at me so sweetly, but her face grew hard as she started to tell me that that monster was a bane to their small community and she was glad Mittens had gotten to him. I was about to ask her again, when she took my hand and told me that I was fine and Mittens may have gotten their late, but not too late.  
  
Father came and got me. I think he pieced together what had happened, even though I didn’t say a word to him and I had listened to see if Goodwife Barlin had said anything—she hadn’t. I visited the Barlin’s a lot when I was in Lothering. Mittens had more pups through the years; that’s how we got Havoc. He was a gift from Goodwife Barlin to the family. When he got older, he chose his one master, and it turned out to be me. Maybe Mittens was still taking care of her adopted pup.  
  
I eventually found out that that man was a Templar. He liked to abuse children and anyone he held power over. I hated Templars more than ever before. I began to be rude to anyone I suspected was a Templar—to warriors and soldiers in general.   
  
That’s when Father took his token back to scratch the symbol of the Templars on the coin. That’s when he tried to get me to see that people are people, no matter what category you put them in. Not all were going to be bad, and not all were going to be good—but we are all part of a balance. He gave me back the token on the condition that I remember that, and act accordingly—treat everyone as a person and for who they are not what they are labeled as.  
  
**

  
Kitty looked up at Anders, afraid to see anger or pity in his eyes. She saw none. He kept his eyes locked with hers, as he raised her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “Your father must have been an amazing man to raise such a thoughtful and caring daughter.”  
  
Kitty looked down, and nearly giggled—instead, she felt a deep flush of heat color her cheeks.

Anders loved to see that bloom color her skin, making her glow.   
  
Find out how she knows.   
_She’s not a Templar nor would she turn any mage into the Templars, spoiled sport._   
  
Anders released Cat’s hand, and took hold of her shoulders, twisting her to face him. “Now, I know you didn’t just tell me this to share; though I feel so lucky that you chose to do so with me. This has something to do with that night and Bethany being taken, doesn’t it?”  
  
Cat nodded her head. She knew she had to go on and finish her story of why she’d leave everyone without saying a word, why she would leave her armor and major weapon behind.


	21. Blood For Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina finishes her confession, laying herself emotionally bare.

"I had started training as a rogue—specializing in daggers. After that night, I felt I needed to be something stronger—I needed to be trained to protect and defend. I began training as a warrior. I still kept up practice with daggers, but trained in sword play and sought to specialize in warrior abilities.

Poor Bethany. Boys would approach her, and I would make sure they knew I was watching. I’m sure she would have had more suitors if they could have handled her older protective sister. I just didn’t want anyone to threaten or harm her like what happened to m—like what happened before.  
  
I began training for Cailan’s army. I knew some Templar abilities—my Father made sure to teach all three of us how to defend ourselves from magic. I don’t specialize in it—and I don’t use lyrium, so it isn’t as strong as what trained Templars can do. I know basics so I can defend myself—to gain an advantage in a fight or to run. What I sought to learn were strong offensive specialties: that’s why I chose to train as a Berserker and Reaver."  
  
Kitty looked at Anders, and marveled at how he was just listening to her so patiently. She felt like she was rambling. In that short moment of silence, Anders turned at looked her, and gave her a small smile. Cat knew he wanted her to finish her story, to give her reason as to why she was here on the Wounded Coast.  
  
“You’ve got to understand; everything I had ever done had been to protect Bethany. I joined Cailan’s army because it offered training that I could use to protect her, because I thought I could make a difference and help keep the darkspawn away.” Cat gave a cruel smile to mock herself, “like someone like me could make a difference.”  
  
Anders felt the pain that Cat refused to acknowledge. She could make a difference, bigger than what she could ever know. If nothing else, he would always know that she had made a difference in his life.  
  
“The day we came back from the Deep Roads, I thought maybe I had done it. The treasure we had found would keep Bethany safe and she wouldn’t have to worry. That thought turned cold and into ash when I walked into the house. I’m guilty of so many things—

There are three things I regret: I tried to please my mother and went against my own instinct, telling Bethany to stay behind—because of that one moment of weakness, Bethany is now in the Circle; I did not cut Cullen and his fellow Templar down where they stood, a weakness that Bethany has again paid the price for. The third happened that same night.  
  
They watch Bethany, you know. Meredith is still waiting for me to try something to help my sister. Bethany tries to constantly reassure me that I am helping her by doing nothing but writing letters to her. I can’t go and see her—surrounded by Templars, locked away for my mistakes. I put her in a place full of men like him.” Kitty felt the words spew from her mouth like a venom. Anders knew the violence and horror that could be done to mages—he had hoped that Cat’s wealth and growing name was keeping Bethany from experiencing even a blink of what he had.  
  
“I tried to see her once. I had made it to the Gallows Courtyard, a place we’ve been many times before. There was a girl there, she was Tranquil. A young man was trying to talk to her, to make her remember him. They had been lovers. I felt his sorrow and pain, but what made my blood run cold was when she calmly and smoothly said that she belonged to some Templar—she was his to do whatever he saw fit to do to her. I couldn’t go further—my hand was already reaching for my blade.”  
  
Anger flooded Cat’s veins at the memory; she began pounding her fist into the sand beside her. Anders held his eyes shut, willing the echo of Cat’s words to fade—it did not help with Justice encouraging Cat to do anything.   
  
If she can help, it is her duty to help…  
 _Shut up, shut up!_  
  
Cat felt Anders’ arm reach behind her and press her arm against her side, making her stop the assault on her fist. She tried to calm herself, realizing that her anger was only getting in the way of her confession, and had to be trying on Anders’ control of Justice.  
  
“I haven’t been to see Bethany, but I make sure to write. She says it is enough and I have to tell myself to believe her.  
  
That night, when I went to The Hanged Man I wanted to rage. I wanted to go to the Gallows and just tap into my abilities—to lose control and slaughter every Templar there. That mixture of rage, despair and nothingness is my third regret—I didn’t go to the Gallows because I remembered Bethany’s words to me. Any negative action I did would only make things worse. I held myself in check for her sake.  
  
But then I heard those men. His use of the word, ‘breed’--I couldn’t take it. Not after what I was willing to pay to keep Bethany from anything like that. I don’t remember how I got there or what I did; I just remember the terror in that man’s eyes as I stared hard into them—boring a hole down to his soul. I delighted in making him feel that way.  I knew Varric was there, that Fenris was there. I slowly got myself under control and was willing to follow Varric, but that man would not shut up. It’s like that Templar had come back from the Void to taunt me.  
  
I wanted to kill him, I had planned on it. I remember someone threatening me trying to stop me;--I sent out a wave of smite to knock away the faint magic I had sensed. I focused on that man. I wanted the satisfaction of seeing his blood spill from my blades and I was going to get it—I would see his life pour from his wounds and fade from his heartless eyes.”  
  
Cat stopped, reliving the memory feeling her muscles tense—She saw one man before her but he wore two faces:  the man from The Hanged Man and the Templar who had whipped her, taunted her and so much more and had planned to do even more.

Cat’s anger boiled and called for blood to spill: rich wine colored payment for their offenses towards Bethany, for offenses towards her. Her mouth went dry, and Cat began to feed off of the memory and imaginings of the man’s terror, her anger and pain growing and drawing power from the bitter taste of despair—fresh from the man she would kill and the sour dregs of her own.  
  
Something wasn’t right—the man before her wasn’t giving voiceless screams. No, the voice she heard was faint, and full of—Cat’s eyes widened—the voice, it cared, it was so full of love. She was hearing Anders’ voice calling her name.  
  
“Hawke… Cat…. Kitty.” She felt his hand cup her cheek and turned her head and unseeing eyes towards him, “Kitty, love… Come back to me, love.” He rested his forehead against hers, his hand moving to cup the back of her neck as she followed his voice back into the present.   
  
Cat’s eyes began to focus, and she felt Anders’ hand on her neck, felt his hot breath as he held her waiting for her to return. She swallowed, and reached up to touch his cheek; he let go and looked at her. Cat could see the trail of a tear on his stubbled cheek; she followed the jeweled trail reverently with her fingertips—collecting the bittersweet moisture. She brought the wetness to her lips, wanting to kiss the sorrow away. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against the trail, down from his cheek to his chin.  
  
Cat pulled away from Anders, afraid she had overstepped her bounds. She saw a flame in his eyes, and knew that it matched the one burning within her. He had told her no years ago, and she tried to respect that. But it seemed that he was the one there when she needed him; he was the one she was drawn to when she wanted to be Kitty—not Hawke.   
  
Anders understood, he called her Hawke like everyone else, but he also called her Cat at times. Whenever Cat needed him, he was there—just like now. Now, when he called her Kitty!

She didn’t understand how he could tell her no and then do all of this: take care of her and be there for her, seeming to love her—Kitty, not Hawke. She didn’t deserve him, but she wanted him. Didn’t they both want to be happy?  
  
Anders felt Cat pull away. He wanted to reach out and pull her closer, to make her forget everything and just believe—in hope and in him. He saw the desire in her eyes, and yearned to answer it. But no, he looked away and reminded himself of his promise: he wouldn’t do this to her. He wouldn’t tie her to him when he offered her nothing. Anders denied himself the pleasure of looking at Cat, of getting lost in her eyes. He had nothing but heartbreak to offer her, yet she looked at him again and again like he was all she needed in this world, all that she wanted.   
  
Several minutes of silence ticked between them before Anders began to stand and take off his coat. Cat looked up at him, and shook her head when he offered it to her.  
  
“Cat, you must be cold. Even here by the fire. Your tunic is nothing more than rags now—let--let me take care of you.” Kitty looked at Anders hopefully at his words, Anders realized what he said, and wanted her to and dreaded to hear her say yes. “Quit being so stubborn and let me take care of your wounds.”   
  
Hawke shook her head. “Not until you hear everything. I’m almost done explaining everything and you’ll understand why I’m here when I am done.” Cat looked up at Anders pleadingly.  
  
Anders crossed his arms impatiently. “Fine, but no matter what, I tend to your wounds at the end.” Anders contented himself with Cat’s simple nod of her head, and sat down so she could finish.  
  
“I sat with all of you after you, Anders, stopped me from killing that man. Everyone was drinking, though I think they slowed down after my little outburst. I remember you gave me my token, and I’ve held on to that.  You took the time to pick it up and give it to me, you remember, don’t you, everything I told you in the Deep Roads years ago.” Cat looked at Anders, and he gave her a small embarrassed smile.  
  
“I’m out here because I need to be punished; I need to pay for my own crime. I already pay for the crimes of telling Bethany to stay and letting her go to the Circle by not seeing her and knowing that I cannot help her escape. I’ve helped other mages avoid and leave the Circle, but I can’t help my own sister.” She choked back a wail in her voice.

“What I’m out here paying for is the fact that I betrayed my father’s lesson. That night, after everyone fell asleep around Varric’s table, I left. I tracked that fool of a man to the docks and nearly killed him.   
  
I taunted him with my blades, digging a dagger into his shoulder wound. Letting him run--only to stop him by one of my daggers landing right in front of his foot, right by his head, between his thighs as he tried to flatten himself into the dark walls of warehouses. I held him against the brick, letting him feel the steel blade whisper against his flesh waiting to bite.   
  
I had his head pushed back against a wall, my hands pushing his chin up so the point of my dagger was pressed against his pulse. I began to push the point but as the skin started to break, he made a noise: a high pitched yelp.” Kitty closed her eyes, and covered her face with her hands. “I swear I then heard a dog howl in response to that sound. I pulled my blades away and let the man fall. Not even looking at him, I tossed a handful of silvers at him and told him to see a healer and to stay away from me.  
  
I slunk away to the cellar of the old Amell estate—the home I had promised Bethany; the one I now own and she has never been in since I bought it. I sat in that dark cold cellar with Havoc wondering what had become of me. In that moment I only felt hate for myself: I was judging a man not by his words and actions but by another’s. Someone he had no knowledge of. I was making him pay for another’s sins—just like all mages are made to pay for the crimes of the magisters; just how all Templars are seen as monsters when there are those out there who are like Ser Thrask and ultimately Cullen—protectors, of mages and the public. I had betrayed my father’s lesson: It wasn’t forgotten. I remembered it clearly but chose to ignore it to satisfy my bloodlust. It nearly had me twice, but you stopped me the first time—Fate and dumb luck worked to stop the second time.”  
  
Cat stood and removed her leather corset; Anders had to see the extent of her wounds, to see how far she would push herself to fall. Anders rose to his feet as she let her corset fall. The color left his face as he saw what the leather had been hiding—there was more than the gash along her ribs—a lot more. Her lower back seemed to be drenched in blood—the white rags on her tattered shoulders a stark contrast to the sickening red that had bloomed on her lower back.  
  
 Anders thought that his eyes couldn’t get bigger, but as Cat lifted her arms, he saw welts on her exposed abdomen, angry streaks of pink piercing against her caramel skin. He noticed the gash on her chest last. She had placed her corset well—the flare of the leather guarded her secret—an angry red mouth had bloomed across Cat’s left breast.  
  
 Anders took a step towards Cat and she looked away—she had not thought there would be pain and heartache in his eyes. She had thought he would grow angry at her, yelling at her, abandoning her in the dark of night so she would be left all alone. Kitty would have preferred he looked at her with disgust instead of the heartbreaking love she saw flash in his eyes.  
  
Cat took a deep breath, finally whispering: “Blood for blood—I’ve taken blood and have bled for my sister and family. That night was the first time I sought to take blood for my own satisfaction and it disgusts me that I came so close to doing it—I need to pay for that turn; to relive the nightmares because they are what define me. I’m scared of forgiveness—forgiveness I so desperately need, that I yearn for, but cannot afford to give myself.” Her words ended so softly, Anders wasn’t sure she had finished with what she needed to say.  
  
Both knew they felt something for the other. Neither of them was willing to say it, afraid that the other would echo the rejection they gave themselves. Instead, they willingly stayed in limbo—safe from rejection. Denying themselves as they reached for each other across the chasm that was a mere line in the sand.   
  
Cat stared down at the ground, awaiting Anders’ judgment—the warm firelight making the blood and skin showing through her tattered tunic dance eerily in the night. Kitty heard Anders moving and forced herself to look up at him. He was crossing the distance she had placed between them. She had hoped and feared that he would be looking at her like she had gone mad or that he wouldn’t even look at her.   
  
Instead, Anders made sure he held Cat’s eyes. He understood that she saw herself as nothing—something used and no longer serving a purpose. He understood the feeling all too well—it was one of the reasons he longed to be around her. It was the reason that she was so dangerous to him—Kitty Hawke took away his sense of nothingness. She made him feel like he was worth something—that he was more than an apostate with a cause.   
  
The times he caught her watching him as they traveled together, whenever she stopped to help or just visit him at the clinic—the look in her eyes made his heart race and the blood heat in his veins. There was so much behind those eyes, and those massive emotions had been hidden away for years.   
  
When Cat had looked up at him, he knew she expected him to turn away. Anders would never turn away from her; he couldn’t turn away. Her small and curvy body was injured and in pain, but her dark eyes had come alive for him again. Anders had his little Kitty and he would not abandon her.   
  
Cat watched as Anders drew closer and closer to her—he moved slowly but with purpose, as if he didn’t want to frighten her. Cat was never afraid of Anders. What frightened her was the thought of losing him because of whom she was: a lonely and hurt little girl masquerading as a strong woman, as a fierce warrior.   
  
She stood rooted by her fear as Anders finally stood before her. She didn’t want to meet his gaze; not with him so close. Kitty stared down at the sand beneath her feet, worrying her bottom lip. Anders raised his hands, wanting to pull her close but afraid of touching her, not knowing where she didn’t have a wound or felt no pain. He finally placed his fingers beneath her chin, raising her shy face into his light.   
  
Cat didn’t fight Anders’ touch, didn’t fight against his hand. She raised her face, lifting her eyes from the ground and staring up into his—feeling a small tear escape. His fingers released her chin only to move and caress her cheek. She rose on her tip toes, steadying herself with one hand on his hips, the other reaching up to graze the back of his neck. Kitty looked into Anders’ eyes pleadingly, the tip of her pink tongue darting out and wetting her lips. Anders released a small groan at the sight, leaning down he brought his lips close to her small and hungry mouth.   
  
How will this heal her?  
  
Anders stopped, his lips hovering so close to Cat’s. She felt his body stiffen, and released her hold on him, falling back down to her feet and away. He straightened his body, his hand running through his hair, pulling at the band he used to keep it tied back.   
  
_There are different kinds of healing, you know._   
  
He looked at Cat, knowing she was so injured yet he still could only see how beautiful she was there in the firelight. He released a ragged sigh. “Cat, I’m sorry. I—I…”  
  
“No, I’m sorry. I promised you could tend to wounds when I was done. You listened, and so now I need to be a good little patient.” Cat rushed to fill the silence of his sentence. She looked at him, a teasing smile on her face. She wanted to cry, but didn’t want to give into the urge nor did she want him guessing how she felt. She placed all her weight on one foot, a hand resting on her hip and retreated into Hawke: “Well, then Warden. Time for me to keep my end of the bargain. Where do you want me and what do I need to do?”


	22. Revelations and Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders heals Catalina, again.

He needed to see her wounds, for her to get cleaned up. They decided to go back to Kirkwall, even though it was late in the night. It was unspoken and silently agreed upon that they would go to his clinic; no one needed to know that she was back—not until she was ready. Anders was afraid that they wouldn’t get back safely, but Cat put herself together, and Anders saw her wince as she hooked her corset around her--re-covering her wounds. She straightened, and looked like Hawke— but the angry wounds on her body continued to stand out in Anders' mind.  
  
The arrived at his clinic early in the morning. Cat stared in wonder as she noticed how empty it was. As if Anders heard her thought he replied, “I knew I was going to be away so gave some supplies to Lirene and had volunteers direct people her way.”  
  
Cat looked up at Anders and gave him a small smile.  
  
 Catalina is in pain.  
 _Of course she is._  
She drags and threatens to fall.  
  
Anders looked for Cat and saw that her arms were crossed in front of her abdomen, and she was leaning against a column. She looked up at him pleadingly. He rushed to her.  
  
The journey was too much—her body is tired.  
 _Bloody hell, I should have kept her on the Coast._  
  
Cat felt the room being to spin around her; she looked up at Anders as he reached her side. She stretched a hand out towards him, her lips parting and whispered, “Ward--…” before she collapsed into his arms.  
  
Anders caught her. She seemed so frail in his arms.

  
We must tend to her.  
 _Is she okay? Please let her be alright_.  
Her body is tired and she needs healing. With our care, she will be fine.  
 _ **Our** care…_  
Tend to her.  
  
Anders gazed down at Cat; he would care for her. He was surprised that Justice was being agreeable with everything, but he wouldn’t question it. Anders took her over to a cot. He thought about getting someone to get Isabela for him, but knew Cat wouldn’t want anyone else to see her like this—even her best friend and ‘sister’ Isabela. His hands began to shake as he realized he would need to undress her. This wasn’t the way he had imagined undressing her. Still, Anders steeled himself as he began to unlace her boots.  
  
Her wounds will need to be cleaned. Warm some water for her wounds.  
 _And when did you become Healer?_  
When your control began to tremble.  
  
Anders felt his eyes grow wide as he realized what Justice was saying. _Be gentle with Haw—_  
You cannot lie to me, Anders. You only think of her as Hawke when the there are others. Call her by her name.  
  
Anders stayed silent, releasing some of his control on his body to Justice. It was rare when Anders did so; usually Vengeance overpowering him at moments of anger. He knew and felt that Justice would have better control over his body then he would. This was a simple shared control, but he let Justice lead—their knowledge shared as well as his skill.  
  
They filled two shallow basins with water, and grabbed some clean cloths. They placed the basins on another cot beside Cat’s. Quickly and efficiently, they removed Cat’s boots and corset. She will have to get a new one made—the ripped pieces of leather threatening to fall apart in their hands. Anders was unsure on how to proceed, but Justice led the way.  
  
They proceeded to remove her leggings, leaving her small clothes in place. Justice took more control as he felt desires stir within Anders.  
  
Inappropriate.  
 _I am a man._  
  
They tapped into their mana, warming the water in the basins with magic. The soaked one of the cloths in the warm water and began to clean the blood away from her legs. Justice worked quickly while Anders took in every touch of their fingertips against Cat’s warm skin. There were two gashes on one of her thighs—they cared for them, cleaning them gently. They held their hands almost reverently over her wounds focusing on mending the torn muscles of her smooth yet strong thighs; admiring her will that forced herself to fight with such injuries.  
  
After tending to minor scrapes and scratches after the major wounds on her thighs, they covered Cat’s legs with a thin sheet. Anders felt content with Justice’s care of Cat. They ran their hands over Cat’s hips as they pulled the sheet up to her waist. Then they turned their attention to Cat’s tunic.  
  
Why does she feel guilt?  
 _You know, she didn’t stop the Templars from taking Bethany._  
  
 _I’m surprised you’re not finding her guilty for not stopping them._  
It is an injustice. The Templars must be punished. She is the one punishing herself.   
  
You mortals do not always make sense.  
  
Their hands had worked quickly, removing the rags that had been Cat’s tunic. They carefully cleaned her wounds; Anders winced as he saw how deep the wounds over her breast and along her abdomen were. They set to healing her, mending broken bone and torn muscle. They were grateful that Cat was remaining unconscious—even with magic, the muscles would be sore and cause her pain. With a night’s rest, the pain would dull.  
  
They lifted Cat up, remembering how her back had carried the stain of blood. Justice began to rage as he saw the scars on her back—scars from the Templar’s abuse. Anders forced them to focus on Cat’s lower back, finding the gash that had stained her tunic. Their hands quickly worked to clean the gash, mending her wound. They wanted to feel the scars that Cat kept—Anders wishing that he could heal them away, but they simply allowed their fingertips to hover over the raised lines of pale pink.  
  
They laid her down, and pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. They took one of Anders’ worn tunics and again lifted Cat up to dress her in his shirt. Anders felt a small sense of satisfaction at seeing her wrapped in his clothing. Their fingers played in her dark curls, as they brushed their lips against her forehead.  
  
Anders felt the complete control of his body return to him. He took care of the basins, their water carrying an awful pink tint. He was amazed her small body could have lasted that long with the extent of her wounds. Cat was stubborn, and that may be a large part of how she could still stand and fight with him by the campfire.  
  
He sat on the cot next to Cat; letting the tiredness sweep over his body. Anders felt his mind drift to the feeling of her straddling him, the way his hands felt on her thighs and the weight of her pressing against him. He closed his eyes waiting for the scolding that Justice usually gave.  
  
When Anders was met with silence, he laid back on the cot. He turned on his side, facing Cat's healed and tired body.  
  
I’ve finally placed where I have felt these feelings you have before.  
 _What?!, you mean you’ve determined that she really is a desire demon?_ Anders joked with Justice, afraid of what he might reveal.  
Why are you so afraid of the truth?  
 _Because, sometimes the truth will remind you of how unworthy you are._  
I’ve watched how she looks at you, and how you look at her.  
 _What happened to, “She is a distraction”?_  
She is one. But…  
 _But what?_  
But you feel for her, what Kristoff felt for Aura.  
  
Anders tried to deny the truth that Justice spoke. There was no use, he had to admit it or Justice would goad him with the knowledge: he loved Kitty. That’s why Justice wouldn’t let him think of her as Hawke. She was Cat...  
  
Kitty  
 _What?_  
Isn’t that what you have called her in your slumber? Your dreams?  
 _Sleep? you know how sleep works with us Wardens…_  
That was the name she responded to when you guided her from her memory.  
Anders groaned, he had called her Kitty hadn’t he?  
And she returned to us, to you.  
 _I thought you disapproved._  
I do. But I know how deep this emotion can go because of Aura and Kristoff.

It will not be denied no matter my disapproval.  
  
Anders laid there in silence. He loved Kitty—he called to her in his sleep by that name. He woke up night after night, dreaming of Kitty, wanting her in his bed and in his arms.  
  
 _She deserves someone better._  
Kitty wants you.  
 _What happened to not responding to her?_  
Must we go over this again?  
 _I don’t even know if she still cares_  
You lie to yourself and to me. 

I do not approve, but I will not fight you against it.  
  
Anders was stunned into silence. He propped himself up to look over Cat—Kitty. She deserved more, and if Justice wouldn’t fight him on it, then he would fight her on it.

***

  
Cat awoke in Anders’ clinic. She stretched, feeling a dull soreness in her muscles. She looked down, over her own body. She was dressed in one of his shirts. Cat felt her body color as she realized that she was only in her small clothes underneath. She looked around and only spied Anders lying in a cot next to her. He had to have undressed her and taken care of her; the apples of her cheeks bloomed at the idea of his hands undressing her.  
  
Cat heard Anders stirring next to her. She got up off of her cot and stood. She gave a small giggle as she realized that Anders’ tunic dwarfed her: the hem of the shirt falling past her knees.  
  
Anders gave a sleepy smile as he began to wake from his tired slumber; he could have sworn that he heard Kitty giggle. He opened his eyes and stretched, turning to look at her cot. She wasn’t there.  
  
He sat up and called out, “Kitty?--Cat, where are you?”  
  
She came out behind a screen he had sectioning off a portion of the clinic. “I’m here, Warden. just seeing what you have to eat.” She rubbed an apple against her chest, and began moving towards him.  
  
Anders took in the sight of Kitty as she walked towards him, his decision to fight his feelings for her having seemingly disappeared into the aether. His muscles began to tense a little as he noticed how his shirt dwarfed her. The neckline revealing one of her shoulders, as her dark curls bounced around her face with each barefoot step she took towards him. She took a bite out of the apple that Anders had grown so jealous off as it got to rub against her.  
  
“Catch, Warden.” Cat tossed the apple at him, which he caught before it could fall to the ground.

  
Anders smiled at her, taking a bite of the apple. Her small bite making his seem so much larger. He tossed it back to her, and they silently played a game of catch: small intimate smiles being traded with each toss of the apple, back and forth as they tasted of its sweetness until there was nothing left but the core and one smile between the two.  
  
Anders stood up and walked over to her, his thumb reaching up and wiping a small drop of apple juice that had fallen from her lips to her chin. Cat watched as Anders moved his thumb to his lips, and his tongue licked the juice from its tip. His eyes never leaving her face. Cat felt her legs tremble and her mind began to race over fantasies she had buried at the back of her mind.  
  
The pull to each other was broken when they heard a noise outside. Someone was at the clinic doors; Anders had locked them so whoever it was couldn’t gain entry. The two waited in silence, listening to see if anyone would call out for the healer. No one did.  
  
“Thank you.” Cat reached up, her hands grabbing at Anders’ coat, pulling him a little towards her as she stood on tip toe—she gave him a kiss on the cheek before letting go.  
  
“I’d do anything for you, Cat. You know that, don’t you, lo—Kitty?”  
  
Kitty nodded her head, her teeth playing nervously with her bottom lip. She swallowed the desires she felt on her lips and nervously asked, “I don’t suppose you have some pants I could borrow? I don’t think I could go traipsing through Darktown in just a tunic.” Kitty gave Anders a teasing smile.  
  
“I don’t know, maybe I want to keep you in my clinic forever,” he teased her in return, as he let himself become bolder, placing his hand on her hips.  
  
Kitty’s big brown eyes opened even larger, as her hands instinctively reached up to grasp each other behind his neck. She again stood on tip toe, as he lowered his head at the command of her hands. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and his lips parted in anticipation.  
  
They felt the heat of each other’s breath as their lips drew closer, Anders’ hands pulling her hips closer to him, Kitty pushing higher to meet his lips causing his hand to slip from her hips down and around, feeling and cupping her buttocks.  
  
They heard a loud knock on the door, and Anders groaned in disappointment. Kitty lowered herself to the soles of her feet. “Before you open the door, could I get those pants?” Kitty lifted his tunic a little higher, allowing the hem to brush against the top of her light brown thighs showing him her bare legs.  
  
Anders caught his breath. “You naughty--”  
  
Her response was to lift the tunic a little higher. Anders closed his eyes pushing down his desire, and walked towards the back where he kept his clothes. He came back with a pair of trousers, and handed them to her. Kitty unfolded them, turning around and began to step into them. Her movements causing the tunic to lift higher up her backside. Again, Anders briefly closed his eyes fighting the feeling building in his core.  
  
There again was a knock on the door, and Anders began to move towards it. Before he unlocked and opened the door, he turned to check on Kitty. She stood before him, dressed in his clothes: his trousers pushed into her boots. She had pulled the leather strap from the rags of her tunic and used it as a belt, cinching his tunic, giving hint to some of her curves beneath the worn cotton. Even dressed in men’s clothes, Kitty Hawke stirred something within him.  
  
She nodded at him, and he unlocked the door to find one of his volunteers from Lirene’s at the threshold. Kitty quickly made her exit as the volunteer began to go on about how Anders was needed at the shop.


	23. Isabela's Delivery Service

Cat took the cellar up to the mansion. She still hadn’t told Anders about the entryway to the mansion that was basically right outside his door. Luckily, she only ran into Havoc as she entered the mansion. She felt happy to see her lovable mabari and cooed at him. They both made their way up to her room so she could change into more ‘proper’ clothes. She could only imagine what Isabela would say if she saw Cat there dressed in Anders’ things.  
  
Cat made a list in her mind: she would need to buy Anders a couple of tunics, and trousers; she would also need to make sure he got regular grocery delivery. Fool of a man only had a couple pieces of fruit in the little cupboard he used as his pantry. She chewed on her lip as she realized he would never take those things from her, she would have to find a way to get him to take those things.  
  
Catalina got dressed in her own tunic and leathers, and then cladding herself in some armor as she got ready to visit The Hanged Man as soon as she let Bodahn and Mother know that she had returned.

  
***  
  
“Look at you, you’re positively glowing. Did you steal away to meet some hidden lover?” Isabela teased Hawke as she handed her a pint.  
  
“You know I don’t have lovers.” Hawke rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Isabela.  
  
“Uh-huh, and what about tall, blonde and possessed?”  
  
Hawke’s eyes grew wide, “Isabela, watch what you say” she hissed at her friend.   
  
“Don’t worry, pigeon. Lover boy’s secret is safe—remember: he’s probably taken care of a majority of The Hanged Man’s patrons.”   
  
Hawke gave a laugh, both at the correct statement made by Isabela and at the thought of Anders as ‘lover boy.’ Oh, how she wished it was true.   
  
“Come on now; tell busty Isabela what’s on your mind, pigeon.” Isabela wrapped her arm around Hawke’s shoulders.   
  
“I don’t know, Isabela. He’s got me so confused. He tells me that he can’t be with me, that he shouldn’t but then he cares for me and is there for me. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking before I even realize it myself.” Kitty let out a sigh.  
  
“So, have you pounced on him yet? Have him possess you a little?” Isabela winked at her.   
  
“We’ve gotten so close to kissing—several times-- but something always seems to interrupt.” Catalina stared into her pint, confusion taking over her features.  
  
“Leave it to Isabela, pigeon. I’ll deliver lover boy or else I’ll make sure he goes mad.”  
  
Catalina drew a deep breath and then drained her pint, knowing two things: she would pay for downing a pint when she usually doesn’t even drink half of one, and she should discourage Isabela. Should, but she quickly decided she wasn’t going to; let Isabela try to provoke Anders. Maybe then, a clear decision would finally be made.  
  
***

  
Isabela stopped at Anders’ clinic. He wasn’t surprised, as she’s visited him before. This time she entered bearing gifts: three tunics, three trousers, and a basketful of bread and fruit. She placed them on a crate, and perched herself on a table waiting for him to make his way to her.  
  
“Bout time, oh great mage!” Isabela leaned forward, her arms pushing her breasts together to enhance her already ample cleavage.   
  
Anders smiled at her, ignoring her deliberate bait. He raised his eyebrows at the basket and clothing beside her. “And who did you rob on the way here?”  
  
“What? Can’t a pirate show up with gifts without it being assumed that she stole it?” Isabela jumped down from the table, in mock shock over Anders’ accusation.  
  
“Alright then, Isabela. How can I help you?” Anders crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for her reply. “You know I told you that if you kept coming back with the same sickness…”  
  
“But that’s the whole point of magic, isn’t it?” Isabela placed her hands on her hips, as she pouted at Anders. She shook her head, “What I’m here for is a simple delivery.” Isabela made a gesture towards the basket and packages of clothing.  
  
She walked over to the basket and began to poke through it, stealing a couple of grapes and popping them in her mouth. “They’re from Hawke. She said you helped her quite a bit, and she owed you.”  
  
“I can’t take those…” Anders began to protest as Isabela took up the packages and moved them behind the screen Hawke had told her about.  
  
“Tough. Hawke said she would have come and forced you to take them herself but she had to visit what’s his face—you, know…the good looking prince turned brother—prince-what’s-his-face at the Chantry. Apparently he sent her a letter requesting a visit.” Isabela delivered the news nonchalantly, but she kept her eyes on the little moves Anders made.

She saw him lock his jaw, and ball his hand into a fist. Isabela gave him a smile as she walked past him.  
  
“Such a pity he keeps saying he's married to Andraste--he's such a looker. I wouldn't be surprised if Hawke had him in her sights. If any woman can get him to fall into bed, I'm sure it will be her." Isabela stopped and placed a hand on her hip. "If I were after Hawke, I’d be a little jealous and have to do something about it.” She sashayed her hips, as she turned to Anders and pouted at him.  
  
“Cat—“  
  
Isabela’s eyebrows shot up. “Cat? Are we to the stage where you call her Cat now instead of Catalina?...at least there is some sort of movement towards a relationship—even if it is as slow as an iceberg.”  
  
“Hawke isn’t my woman. She’s a woman who can do as she pleases--” Anders closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “--and see whomever she wants.”  
  
“Mmm hmm.” Isabela walked up to Anders, and toyed with the feathers on his pauldrons. “Look, take dear Isabela’s advice—Hawke…Cat is just waiting for you to make your move. Don’t keep teasing her like you are--"  
  
Anders raised his eyebrows, “Me teasing her? Isabela, she’s the tease. I’m sure you’re proud of your student.”  
  
“Flattery can get you a lot of things, Anders. But this is where I show I do have principles and let you know that I will not go after what our Cat wants.”  
  
“She deserves more, Isabela. You and she both know who I am, what I am and am capable of.”  
  
Isabela pulled on Anders lapels, causing him to bring his face down to hers. “Maybe she does deserve more than what we’re able to offer, but the fact remains that she wants you. If you think she deserves something, then maybe—“ Isabela let go of Anders and straightened his lapels, erasing signs of her hold, “---maybe she deserves to be given what she wants. And that, Anders, is you.”  
  
Anders stayed silent as he watched Isabela sashay away.   
  
That woman is correct.  
 _Never thought you’d be agreeing with Isabela—a pirate._  
I agree with the truth.  
  
Catalina cares for you a great deal. Her emotions match your own when the two of you are together.  
 _She deserves better and you disapprove._  
I do disapprove, but I will not interfere.   
  
Kitty wants you.   
_It doesn’t matter; I don’t want to think about this now._  
You cannot ignore your feelings forever.  
  
Anders shook his head, as if he could shake away the images playing in his mind: Kitty and he close in an embrace; Hawke with some prince...

At least maybe he could give her what Kitty deserved. A prince had more to offer than a rebel apostate. Anders sighed in resignation, one thing was for certain—Isabela was right. He needed to make a decision once and for all.


	24. Choices

Kitty didn’t come back to the clinic that day; Cat didn’t make it anytime that week. Anders didn’t want to admit it but he kept his eye on the clinic doors, just waiting for her to walk in looking for him.  
  
Each night that Catalina was gone without seeing him, Anders was haunted by dreams—never fully getting a night’s rest. He’d wake with tightness in his chest, his heart breaking from the images in his dreams: Kitty was walking through his clinic doors, Sebastian and Fenris behind her. She spoke to him, telling him that she wanted to share something with him—and then that’s when Sebastian would walk up and wrap his arms around Kitty—hugging her against his shiny white armor. Sebastian would stare at him, and whisper in Kitty’s ear. She’d smile and turn her head up to him, and then Sebastian would bring his hand up and caress her face as they kissed. Anders always woke up before she could share whatever it was she had wanted to share with him.  
  
Then on other nights he’d wake up with a different kind ache; one that burned hot and deep. Fantasies played out in his dreams that he didn’t dare voice, but yearned for—simple fantasies of love with longing looks and the sweet simplicity of being able to entwine his fingers with Kitty’s whenever the mood struck him; the wonderful feeling of knowing that she would not reject his touch—would not reject him.   
  
Laced within heart bursting and simple fantasies were heavier primal ones: the sound of Kitty’s ragged breathing from being taken, her moans of pleasure peaking with his name. The feel of her skin on his, the taste of her lips, the taste and musk of her drowning his senses again and again.   
  
As time passed with Hawke staying away, Anders got less and less sleep as his slumber became plagued with loving looks directed away from him and towards white armor. Anders started to feel on edge—Templars visiting Darktown regularly, working with the resistance, trying to write a manifesto and not seeing Kitty. It was becoming too much.  
  
Almost a month later, Hawke walked through the clinic doors.  
  
Anders was working with a patient, a young woman who had been feeling ill in the morning. He was delivering the news that she was going to be a mother. Anders tried to keep his voice neutral—clear of the concern and worry that always plagued him when young women came to him and he had to let them know they were with child. This time, the woman grinned as she heard the news, her hand going to her belly. Anders grinned back at her and congratulated her as he helped her up. She squeezed his hand before letting go and headed towards a young man who was waiting for her. Anders watched as she whispered something in his ear, and the man swept the woman into his arms kissing her.   
  
Anders was still beaming with the leftover joy when he noticed Hawke making her way towards him. He turned and made his way back to a wash basin he kept on a makeshift table.  
  
“Have you missed me, Warden?” Hawke gently teased as she jumped up and took a seat on the table, next to the basin.  
  
Anders turned his head and looked at her while he washed his hands. “Have you been gone?”  
  
“Ouch! That smarts a bit.” Kitty sat on the table, her hands gripping the edge as she swung her dangling legs back and forth. “Well, I missed you even if you didn’t miss me.”  
  
Anders finished washing his hands and turned to dry his hands; he allowed himself to smile as he dried them. He intended to be cross with Kitty, but he relented a little when she admitted to missing him. He tried to turn his smile into a scowl, and turned to face her—she was watching him.  
  
He made his way over to her and placed each of his hands on the table on either side of her. Anders leaned towards her, towering over her as he stared into her big brown eyes.  
  
“You disappeared for three weeks and two days; you little witch. I should bell you like an actual cat so I’d know where you are.”  
  
Anders smiled at the blush that colored Kitty’s face in response to his words. She smiled at him shyly as he continued to cover her. One of her hands moved up and rustled the feathers on his coat, “I thought you said you didn’t notice I was gone.”   
  
“You should actually listen. Maybe you shouldn’t disappear on me suddenly. How would you like it if I dis--”  
  
Kitty pressed a finger to Anders’ lips, sushing him as she shook her head. Her eyes looked into his, making an unspoken request: don’t mention something like that. They both knew that if he disappeared without warning, the Templars would be involved.  
  
Anders simply nodded and Kitty let her finger slide from Anders’ lips to his chin, feeling his stubble. She slowly caressed his chin and cheek; closing her eyes, memorizing the feeling and reveling in it.  
  
Anders stood there partly in shock but enjoying the feeling of her fingers on his flesh. He wanted to lean in and finally kiss her and it would be so easy—  
You’ve made your decision.  
 _Timing, you should work on your timing._  
  
Hawke felt Anders tense his jaw and she dropped her hand into her lap. Anders stood straight and backed away from Catalina. He ran his fingers against his hair, tugging at the small tail he had it tied into.   
  
Kitty and Anders played a game of chase with their eyes in the awkward silence. He would glance at her, and when she looked into his eyes, he would look away.  
  
This is pointless. Tell her how you feel.  
 _No. She deserves so much better; better than what I can offer._  
  
Anders released the tension in his jaw as he walked up to Kitty; he then leaned next to her against the table edge. “Where have you been, Kitty?”  
  
Kitty leaned her head against Anders’ shoulder, breathing in his scent. “The Viscount wanted to speak with me. Since he governs Kirkwall in name, I decided I should pay him a visit.”   
  
Anders’ body shifted as he crossed his arms over his chest. Kitty turned her head and rested her chin atop his shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know. I got caught up in what the Viscount needed me to do—I had to track down a dwarf. Do you remember the one who commissioned me to kill Tal-Vashoth several years ago? We thought he did something incredibly stupid but it turned out he was framed.”  
  
“And now you’ve found the dwarf and it took you all that time?” Anders pulled away from Kitty, and turned, resting his hip against the table edge.   
  
Kitty started to bite her lip, as she answered Anders’ question: “I found the dwarf, yes. That did take about two weeks—tracking down information and then following his trail. Then we had to deal with the actual culprit: a pissed off elf.”  
  
“It’s not my place, Hawke; but you’re still missing time.” Anders’ voice came out heavy, full of concern tinged with other brewing emotions.  
  
“It’s okay, Warden.” Kitty gently pushed her shoulder against his chest. “You can miss me; and worry about me.”  
  
Anders looked at Kitty, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He began to shake his head.  
  
“I know.” Kitty looked down at the toes of her boots, remembering Anders’ rejections and warnings. She had hoped since they had turned into warnings, maybe just maybe—but maybe she was wrong. Kitty sighed, and looked up at Anders, an apologetic smile on her face.  
  
“It took a couple of days to find the elf, and when we found her she had made the potion from the recipe she had stolen. It was a Quanari potion—a lethal poison. It drove people mad, turning them against each other. We had to work our way into the affected neighborhood—fighting mercenaries and the poison…”  
  
Anders stared at Hawke, already figuring what she was going to say. Kitty hung her head guiltily as she revealed why she was gone that extra time: “I got sick—I don’t know if it was from the poison or what it was. I had gone through battle okay, and everything was fine, but then I felt light headed and have been in bed sick.”  
  
Kitty flinched as she watched Anders’ jaw tighten. She didn’t finish what she was about to say—that she was so weak and basically passed out. Varric and Fenris had gotten her to the mansion and to Mother. Mother was too worried to think straight and apparently her friends were idiots in not taking the time to let Anders know. Catalina made note to harass Varric and Isabela for not thinking about what she would want.  
  
Anders was upset with her confession—she never came to him for help; never called for him even when she was weak in bed. Anders’ jaw was tense with the bitter taste of his thoughts.   
  
Do not be quick to judge.   
_Look who is talking._  
Your thoughts are becoming rash because she did not contact you.  
  
Anders fought the urge to grind his teeth and attempted to relax his jaw. He knew he couldn’t let himself be affected like this. It wasn’t the idea that Kitty didn’t call for him—he figured there was probably an explanation for it even though he was a little hurt that no one else thought of telling him.   
  
What made him upset was his reaction: she affected him in ways that he would have never guessed. Anders’ heart was racing at the idea of losing her, of her disappearing and he not knowing where she was: if she was hurt, scared or alone. When Anders lost control it wasn’t a good thing—for him or Justice.   
  
Kitty couldn’t stand the silence any longer; she reached her hand out and tugged on Anders’ coat to get his attention. He turned his head and his jaw began to tighten again. She was looking at him shyly—her eyes flitting back and forth from the floor to his eyes. It reminded Anders of their first day together and their first night.  
  
She came to comfort you even after you told her about me.  
 _Hawke is more than we deserve._  
She apologized for failing you.  
 _I could be twice the man we are, and it still wouldn’t be enough._  
  
Kitty decided she should tell him the truth: “I’m all better now and I wanted to come and see you because I missed you. You were the first person I thought of when I woke up this morning.”  
  
She’ll always care for you, you cannot deny that.  
 _No, I can’t; but I will._  
You don’t want to.  
  
Anders gave Kitty a slight smile. “First one, huh?”   
  
“Who else?” Kitty grinned at Anders, as she jumped down from the table. She took the couple of steps and closed the distance between them. Anders watched her; curious as to what she was doing.   
  
“I’m sorry that no one told you what happened. But I did think of you and came here as soon as I could,” Kitty walked up to Anders, taking one of his hands and placing it above her left breast, she held his hand there with her own. Her eyes looked up at him with unspoken emotion, “I missed my Warden.”   
  
Anders felt the warmth of her body under his hand; he felt the pulse of her heartbeat as he looked deeply into her dark brown eyes. He took his free hand and cupped her cheek. “I missed you, Kitty.”  
  
The smile she gave him was full of warmth that was an echo of what was radiating from her eyes. He missed her. He actually said that he missed her—Kitty.  
  
“Ahem. Excuse me.” Kitty and Anders both jerked their head towards the vocal intrusion.  
  
Anders saw a man standing before him: he was clad in white armor, his hair a dark reddish brown, his eyes a striking blue. He had spoken with a slight accent.  
  
Kitty stepped back from Anders, a pink bloom heating her cheeks. Anders felt the cold air fill the warmth that was Kitty under his hands. He flexed his fingers as he turned his body towards the man.  
  
“Can I help you? Do you need healing?” Anders looked the man up and down— It is that chantry brother. _Of course it is_. Anders crossed his arms.  
  
“Actually, I came to find Hawke.” Sebastian glanced at the petite woman to Anders’ side. “I hope you don’t mind,” Sebastian added diplomatically noticing how Anders was looking at him.  
  
“Of course not. I need to check on another patient.” Anders was reluctant to walk away but forced himself to take every step. Still, he hovered nearby.  
  
“Is everything alright, Sebastian?” Hawke tilted her head at him questioningly.  
  
“Yes. I was just wanting to check on you, you seemed in a rush when you left the Chantry this morning and then Isabela told me you were most likely headed here to the clinic.” Sebastian looked around the clinic, taking it in as it was his first time there.  
  
“Isabela? When did you see Isabela?—Oops! I’m sorry, that was rude of me wasn’t it?” Hawke smiled apologetically.  
  
Sebastian gave a small laugh. “I can understand the confusion. I caught sight of her as she passed by the chantry courtyard, heading towards one of the mansions in Hightown.”   
  
Hawke laughed and shook her head, “She was probably going to see Fenris.” She noticed Anders had glanced her way when she laughed.   
  
“Well then, shall I see you later at the Chantry? I’d like to know when we can visit the Harimanns.”  
  
Hawke nodded her head, as she reached out and touched his upper arm. “I will help you find your answers. I’ll see you later this afternoon, okay?”  
  
Sebastian nodded and turned away. He gave a slight nod to Anders as he passed by.  
  
Hawke walked up to where Anders was standing, trying desperately to look busy. “I’m sorry about that. I finally talked to Sebastian about what he had requested to see me for weeks ago.”  
  
Anders felt his muscles tense, “So he was your first stop.”  
  
Kitty looked at Anders, watching him tentatively. She noticed how he had stared at Sebastian, and she was sure that Isabela had probably played him up to try and goad Anders into doing something.   
  
She stuck with the truth: “I was visiting the Chantry anyway, and so when I saw him I thought I’d ask about his request.”  
  
Anders didn’t know how to take the news. He thought that he’d be her first stop, but now it turns out he wasn’t. Anders grabbed the tray he had been hovering over, his knuckles turning white from his grip. Jealousy spread its tendrils, and Justice felt Anders give a little to the feeling.  
  
You were her first thought.  
 _Did you see the way he was looking at her?_  
She cares for you.  
 _He could give her what she deserves. I’ve got nothing._  
She missed you and you missed her.  
 _It doesn’t matter._  
  
Anders set his jaw, deciding once and for all that he couldn’t do this: not to Hawke and not to Justice. He felt too strongly about her, and with no control things could go bad. If he gave in to jealousy things would go bad. He had to sever the connection she worked so hard for between them.  
  
Anders steeled himself for what he was about to do.  
  
This is foolish and rash.  
 _You don’t approve of her._  
You didn’t want to hurt her.  
 _This will save her pain._  
But at what cost?  
  
Anders laced his voice with ice as he forced the words from his throat, “Why do you insist on helping him?”   
  
“Insist? This is just the second time he has asked for help, and why does it even matter. He’s a friend who is asking for help.” Kitty’s voice hid nothing; it carried her confusion and incredulity.   
  
“He’s a Brother of the Chantry who is asking for help.” Anders refused to look at Kitty; afraid he’d lose his resolve as he watched the emotion dance in her eyes.  
  
“What does that have to do with anything? What he is asking for isn’t Chantry related—it’s about finding out why his family was murdered.”   
  
Kitty told herself to stay calm, though she began to fidget with her hands, one balled into a fist so tight her nails bit deeply into her palm, and the other began searching for her pocket and the security of the metal within.  
  
“So, you want to help him because he’s a prince.” Anders let the jealousy he felt lace his words like venom.  
  
“What did you just say?” Kitty couldn’t believe the accusation. Anders knew her better than that. “I told you why I wanted to help him—he’s a friend.”  
  
“Who is heir to a kingdom.”  
  
“An heir who is sworn to Andraste—Sebastian will fight to get his kingdom back but I doubt he’ll rule. Why are we even talking about this?” Kitty felt her voice start to rise; she dug her nails deeper into her own flesh, hoping the physical pain would stem the emotional hurt.  
  
“You’re spending a lot of time with him.” Anders began to shove his feelings for Kitty into a box. Justice attempted to remind Anders of his true feelings, but Anders refused to listen.  
  
“A lot of time? I’ve seen him a total of three times—three! Varric and Fenris were with me for two, and you were here just now. I was hoping you’d be with me when I helped him again.”  
  
Anders gave a cold hearted laugh. Help the man who could give Kitty everything she deserved everything she wanted—Not everything. Not listening.   
  
“Help? Why would I help ‘choirboy’?” Anders remembered Kitty mentioned Fenris. “Why don’t you get your dog of an elf to help you instead?”  
  
“My dog—? Anders, why are you talking like this?” Hurt began to tighten Kitty’s voice. How could this be her Warden?   
  
“Are you jealous? I came to see you and to visit you...” She remembered why she had visited the Chantry in the first place. “Why are we even talking about Sebastian or any of this? I have something I wanted to tell you!”  
  
“What—that you’re going to be a princess?” Anders finally turned to look at Cat. His face set like stone, and his eyes piercing her with their stare.  
  
“Again?! Warden.” Catalina shook her head: no, this wasn’t her Warden. “Anders, it’s not like that. You know that—“  
  
“Kingdoms need rulers and rulers need heirs.” Anders interrupted whatever Catalina was about to say. He didn’t want to hear it, he couldn’t let himself hear what he hoped she was going to say—that she loved him, wanted him not Sebastian or Fenris or anyone else.  
  
Catalina was becoming lost, the token switching back and forth between her hands until it rested in her pierced palm; the cold metal cooling the burning bite her nails had sunk into the soft skin. Unsaid pleas threaded Catalina’s words, “Why are you going on about this? Sebastian is an avowed Brother—but that doesn’t matter because I came here to see you.”  
  
Anders balled his hand into a fist; he wanted to sweep her in his arms, kissing her, apologizing to her for everything he has said. He couldn’t, he needed to make sure she’d never think of him again.   
  
You are her warden. Justice repeated Kitty’s words to Anders.  
 _She is a distraction;_ Anders threw Justice’s own words against him.  
  
Anders needed to show her that she didn’t need him, never needed him. He had to make her believe that he didn’t need her--even though these days he hadn’t seen her had made him feel like he was shut away in that dark lonely cell again. Even though he wanted to cry out in pain, he would make her believe that he did not need her nor did he ever want her.  
  
“It doesn’t matter that he took vows. Don’t you think a man would give up vows to be with a woman he loved, someone he’d be willing to spend the rest of his life with, to have a child with?” If he were Sebastian, he would give up everything for Kit—for Hawke. But he wasn’t, he had a cause to focus on, a wrong that needed to be made right.  
  
Kitty looked as if Anders had slapped her with the hand he had just caressed her with. Hawke laughed bitterly, “What I think is that there are some things a man will not give up no matter how much a woman loves him.”  
  
Hawke’s words hit their mark; it was Anders’ turn to feel the stinging pain. What she didn’t understand was that it was nothing like the pain he was already putting himself through: the pain at having to break her heart---a heart he had tried to shield; the pain of Justice watching everything unfold and not being able to do anything because it wasn’t his right.   
  
“Is that supposed to be directed at me?” Anders took two long purposeful strides towards Catalina. He let the anger and hatred he felt towards himself seep into his voice, poisoning the tips of the words he aimed directly at Kitty: “I’ve got news for you Hawke, you were never an option.”  
  
Anders and Justice watched as Kitty’s eyes grew wide, there was no hiding from the pain that screamed at them from within her.  
  
“Option? I’m your friend. I want to—“  
  
She wanted to say, I want to be so much more: your lover, your partner, your other half--but instead she swallowed those words.  
  
“Want to what? Keep dragging me into your game of Knights and Mages?” Anders crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring at Hawke wishing she’d slap him and leave.   
  
Hawke didn’t move; she mirrored Anders’ stance, “Game? How is what I do a game?”  
  
“The mages’ plight is serious and requires serious dedicated work, not the occasional dalliance of helping an already escaped mage. You’re playing a game while I and other mages live it.”  
  
“Are you questioning my loyalty? How much I’m willing to give and help mages?” Hawke stared at Anders defiantly—he of all people should know how much of herself she was willing to give.  
  
You will regret what you’re thinking of doing.  
 _Then so be it, she needs to run from me and stay away._  
You will only add to her scars.  
 _Let her have a reminder of what a bastard I am so she won’t falter in hating me._  
  
“You’re willing to help those that happen to cross your path.” Anders took a deep breath, and grabbed her shoulders; he stared down at her, into her as he began to finish digging his grave. “You are only willing to pay any price for a mage of your own blood.”  
  
Anger was burning in Hawkes eyes, “Knights and Mages! Pay any price for a mage of my own blood…“ Tears threatened to fall, she had trusted him and now, she was paying a price for that trust.   
  
“Anders, why are you being so cruel?” Hawke stood tall under Anders’ grip, attempting to banish the idea of Kitty from ever appearing again.  
  
Anders grasped Hawke’s chin raising her face up to him. He’d imagined claiming her lips this way, and now instead of claiming her, he was releasing her. Anders gazed into the dark pools of mixed emotions; he saw the tears that had built up in her eyes.   
  
He watched as she looked away and a tear fell down her check. He traced the crystal trail with his thumb, and delivered his final volley, “You’ve been a pretty plaything but now it is time for the games to stop.”  
  
He dropped his hand from her chin, and turned away from Hawke. Anders rubbed the tip of thumb that had traced that wet trail against his lips—now she had shed tears for him twice.   
  
Hawke couldn’t understand, why was Anders doing this to her? He was being so harsh, so cruel but his touch was so tender. “I’d help you in anything you asked, I’d give any—“  
  
“You have nothing to offer accept your services as a blade.” Anders refused to look at Hawke.   
  
“Is that all I am to you: a plaything and a blade?” Hawke’s voice was rough with hurt, but her eyes had turned cold and black.    
  
“You were a fun distraction, Hawke. But now it’s time for me to focus on my work.” Anders kept his back to her, and forced himself to move. His silence and lack of attention letting her know that he was done with her and she should leave. He listened to her rough breaths, to the small sob that she tried to swallow as soon as it began to escape her body. Finally, he heard her footsteps hurry away from him.  
  
Anders hung his head, his eyes closed. He knew this was for the best, wasn’t it?  
The best for who?  
 _For Kitty._  
Or for you?  
  
Anders forced himself to go numb and hoped that this would truly be the end of him and Catalina.


	25. Aftershock

“Hello, pigeon! So, was he thrilled to finally see you?” Isabela wrapped her arms around Hawke’s shoulders, anticipating the joyous fidgeting of her friend. Instead, she felt Hawke give a heavy sigh as she turned her head away. Isabela’s face fell and she felt anger began to well and rise within her.   
  
“He doesn’t want to see me again. I—I was distracting him from his work.” Hawke attempted to hide the maelstrom of emotions that were whirling within.   
  
“That bastard! Why would he do something like that to you? How could he?” Isabela’s eyes went cold as she thought of how Anders’ toyed with Hawke’s emotions.   
  
“It doesn’t matter. I just—“ Hawke’s voice faltered.   
  
The whirlpool of her thoughts beginning to draw her in against herself. She should have known better; she was foolish; she acted no better than a smitten child and Hawke knew well enough to not open herself like she did. Hawke’s mouth drew into a tight line, her eyes hardened with a dark resolve.  
  
Isabela turned Hawke to face her, and placed her hands on Hawke’s shoulders.  
  
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Hawke, don’t lie—I know how you felt about him.” Isabela found herself cursing Anders, which was a pity since she kind of liked him: he could be a bit of fun when stick-in-the-mud wasn’t fighting him. And he had been good for Hawke—at least, it seemed that way.  
  
“I was a stupid little girl. I will not make that mistake a third time.”   
  
Isabela felt Hawke’s body stiffen and harden with every word she had said. She shook her head, knowing what Hawke was denying. She would have to do something about this; but what to do?   
  
“C’mon then, pigeon. Let’s drink and bullshit about the men in our lives: past, present and future.”  
  
They had started out in the main room of The Hanged Man; it did not take them long to invade Varric’s room quarters wanting privacy as Isabela began to tell her tales of lovers past. Aveline even joined them. The two women sat and listened to Isabela go on and on about lovers past.  
  
Catalina sat nursing one pint at first, willing herself to become numb in the bitterness of the alcohol—wishing the bitterness to replace what she held in her heart. It wasn’t enough—neither was the next pint that she forced down her throat, nor the next…Not any amount could drown the painful truth in her heart.  
  
Kitty was withdrawing, putting Hawke between herself and the rest of the world—it wasn’t the fact of what Anders had done, she could easily live and forgive that pain. What she was hiding from was the fact that she didn’t believe him; she wouldn’t let herself believe him. Not after the ways he’s looked at her, or the way his touch had continued to be so gentle though his words were poisoned daggers. Words that were too precise, too carefully aimed. Kitty was struggling with the weight of her heart and its understanding that Anders cared for her so much; he would push her away in the only way he could think of—by breaking her heart. So be it, Kitty would go but Hawke would remain.


	26. Consequences

What could he offer? Anders glanced around his clinic: a makeshift space filled with the barest necessities. He kept the clinic clean, but still it looked so dirty when compared to Her mansion. Anders laughed at himself mockingly. He had nothing to offer her but him, and even then it wouldn’t be completely. He had a cause, and that is what defined him now. Anders didn’t have the fun loving arrogant dashing mage that he once was to offer Her.   
  
He sat down at a makeshift table he used for whatever was needed—the latest as a desk where he was trying to write a manifesto. He stared down at the scattered ink stained pages, one hand resting on the table, the other running through his hair and removing the band that held his hair back. The golden brown strands fell and covered his face like a curtain.  
  
Anders sat there, Kitty ever the subject of his brooding thoughts.  
  
Why do you do this to yourself?  
 _It’s the only thing I have of her._  
You could have had so much more.  
 _That really was never an option._  
  
Anders closed his eyes, remembering the past times he has ventured out. Even though he had claimed to be busy, he was still drawn to Her—to her and her adventures. He wanted to know that she was safe. The tension between them was thick, but still when Varric or Isabela asked, he would go with them. She never asked any of them to stop—the invitation nor the positive response.  
  
He knew that what Varric and Isabela were doing was simply a ploy to force something to happen. What they didn’t realize was that both She and he could be very stubborn. Anders, leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, and his face buried in his hands.   
  
It seemed like Sebastian had become Her constant companion—a nickname he had claimed for himself once. Now, he got to see Sebastian’s white armor there when she checked in with the workers at the Bone Pit. Sebastian was there when She spoke to the Viscount, to the Arishok. Sebastian was always there.  
  
And so were you.  
  
Sebastian is always there beside her--chivalrously offering his hand to her when they were climbing simple stairs, helping her up and scanning her over after battle. He used to do those things—  
  
Kitty never takes his hand.  
 _She never took mine either._  
You lie to yourself.  
 _That was the past._  
  
Now, She turns away whenever he makes the rounds on the battlefield. He’s seen Her limping, her head held high and her mouth set into a tight line of determination. She’s limped right past him without even glancing his way, and the one time Isabela made a mention of a healer—of Anders—being right there, Isabela received no reply except for getting a touch of the cold shoulder that was his burden to bear.  
  
Anders willingly suffered the frosty bite of Her looks and unspoken words. He welcomed them, for it meant that she had finally listened to him and his warnings. What made it worse were the looks that Sebastian gave Her. It was obvious that Sebastian was beginning to care for Her. Someone would have to suffer a heart of steel to be able to resist Her and her simple charms. Her smile, the way her cheeks scrunched her eyes when she genuinely smiled. The way the tip of her pink tongue poked out between her teeth when she found something funny but didn’t want to laugh for whatever reason…  
  
A dull pain snaked its way through Anders’ heart and mind—he could go on and on listing what was so charming about Her but he didn’t think that his heart nor mind could bear the masochistic indulgence of those sweet memories--memories of what he would never allow himself to have.  
  
No, those little things would go unnoticed. Sebastian looked at Her first with admiration, but Anders noticed that as the adventures went on that admiration became colored with shades of desire and guilt. The Chantry choirboy was having difficulty in understanding how to fully indulge in what She had to offer. Still, Sebastian cared for Her and Anders only hoped that Sebastian would be kinder to Her than he himself had been; that Sebastian would care—love—her even half of what Anders felt for Her...  
  
Say her name.  
 _Whose?_  
Do not play dumb. You know her name—you know her.  
 _I know nothing nor should I ever know anything of her._  
You disrespect Kitty by not giving her name.  
 _I don’t want the feel of her name on my lips._  
You fool yourself with this mock punishment.  
  
She never came to see him anymore. No dropping by to check on her Warden—no dropping by for quick lessons on the care and aiding of others. She had listened, and took his words to heart. She went away, and only by the grace of Isabela and Varric has he seen her at all.   
  
It is for the best. He had to do and say those things. Anders sat silently, remembering the pained look that was in Her eyes when he called her a plaything. When he accused her of—  
  
You went too far.  
  
  
 _Kitty has stayed away and that’s what matters._


	27. Daydreams and the Chantry

  
Hawke entered the Chantry, climbing the short flight of stairs to light a candle at the feet of the statue behind the pulpit. She placed her sheathed blade in front of her and knelt. Hawke removed her helm, placing it beside her and then bowed her head as her lips began to move to whispered words.

  
Sebastian watched Hawke as she struck a classic image of a knight praying before battle. It was rare that he saw her in the Chantry without him calling for her. Sebastian stood, waiting for her to finish her thoughts and prayers.  
  
He studied her profile, his roaming eyes working like brushstrokes painting the memory of her in his mind: the dull shine of her battle worn armor, the way the flames gave her a hazy glow, as her dark curls fell and framed her face. Sebastian could not really see them, but knew her long dark lashes were resting against her full cheeks as her full and small mouth whispered unknown words that only the dancing flames were privy too. She was beautiful and gave off an air of innocence; no wonder the others were so protective of her. Sebastian began seeing her as a deadly angel, helping those in need in what ways she could, her physical beauty matched by her wit and works.  
  
When she began to stand, Sebastian quickly stepped up to her side, offering a hand to her. He heard the slight clink of her armor as her body stiffened at his gesture. She turned and gave him a beautiful smile, her eyes large and apologetic.  
  
Neither one of them said a thing as they walked up to the banister and stared out into the open Chantry. Hawke was leaning on her arms sitting atop the banister. Sebastian daringly placed his hand atop Hawke’s armored gauntlet—he felt the chill of touching her cold armor run down his spine.  
  
“What’s on your mind, Hawke?”  
  
“Can’t a warrior just come to the Chantry to pray?” Hawke hung her head, letting her curls form a dark curtain between them.  
  
“Of course. The Chantry is open to all, but…”  
  
“But, what?” Hawke turned her head and looked at Sebastian teasingly.  
  
“But you only visit the Chantry when your work brings you here, and now I found you in supplication. Something must be on your mind.” Sebastian turned and leaned his back against the banister, crossing his arms across his chest and gave a concerned lopsided smile to Hawke.  
  
“Maybe I wanted to blend in with the people of the Chantry,” Hawke pressed her finger against Sebastian’s chest. She slid her finger across the plate covering Sebastian’s chest and over to the exposed leather—her finger drawing designs in the protective covering. “Maybe I just came on my own to see you.” Hawke teased Sebastian.   
  
Sebastian swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He tilted his head to look into Hawke’s eyes. It was the one luxury he allowed himself with Hawke—he was willing to get lost in those dark pools. When Sebastian looked into them, he only meant to enjoy the tranquility of their smooth mahogany surface, but lost himself to the undertow of emotions that lay just beneath. He found himself so willing to fall.  
  
Sebastian gripped Hawke’s wrist in his hand, and pulled Hawke towards him, then with a quick flourish turned her around to where her back rested against his chest. He had to admire her grace: she nimbly followed his hand’s guidance in such a smooth manner that the armor between them made no sound. Sebastian leaned his head forward, feeling Hawke’s hair against his face, he hovered his lips by her ear—taking time to breath in her scent, listening to her quiet but rapid breathing.   
  
In a husky low voice he whispered: “You lead me down the road of damnation, Catalina Hawke. Andraste forgive me, because I willingly follow.”  
  
Hawke shivered from the way Sebastian’s breath raced through her body like electricity. She reached up and placed her hand on the back of his neck, holding him against her. “Just how far will you follow?”  
  
Hawke turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around Sebastian’s waist. She raised her mouth up to him. He gazed down at her, the flame in her eyes sparking and spreading into his very heart. With a small groan, Sebastian bent his head towards Hawke’s, his thoughts screaming: “To the Black City itself.” Sebastian made no sound, and instead, gripped Hawke tightly in his arms as his lips claimed her mouth—their harsh ravishment only a beginning to showing her just how far he’d go.  
  
The sound of a door being shut brought Sebastian back from the quick seductive daydream.  
  
Sebastian reached up and grabbed Hawke’s wrist, stopping the seductive movement of her absentminded designs.   
  
Hawke looked up at Sebastian, her eyes searching his piercing blue ones. Sebastian wetted his lips; his mind still imagining what Hawke’s lips tasted like. Luxuries should be enjoyed in moderation, especially when they lead to such temptation.   
  
Closing his eyes, Sebastian took Hawke’s hand and guided it to the crook of his arm. Hawke followed the suggestion and leaned with him against the banister, her hand resting on Sebastian’s arm.  
  
“I’m flattered as always. My services are always at your command.”   
  
Hawke blushed at Sebastian’s comment. She remembered how she had flirted with him and played with the meaning of his words. Sebastian bit back a smile, seeing that he had gotten to her with his comment.  
  
“You were right. I came here to see you, to get your advice,” Hawke leaned her head onto Sebastian’s shoulder.  
  
“My mind and thoughts are yours.” Sebastian was tempted to grasp Hawke’s fingers and bring them to his lips. Instead, he briefly laid his head atop of her resting one.  
  
Hawke took a deep breath, knowing that Sebastian would most likely bristle at her news. She bore no misconceptions about how Sebastian felt about Anders. Hawke stood straight and stepped away from the banister, turning to face Sebastian: “Anders has asked to speak with me, privately at his clinic.”  
  
Sebastian felt his muscles stiffen. Anders—he did good works, but he was a possessed apostate. Sebastian had kept his tongue still as a show of respect for Hawke. But now this apostate wanted to speak with Hawke—after he had already hurt her. Sebastian did not know the details, but remembered the harsh wounded look that Hawke bore within her eyes for weeks.  
  
“You aren’t seriously considering his request, are you?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, yes I am. It’s a simple request: he just wants to speak with me.” Hawke’s muscles began to harden as the tingle of déjà vu traveled through them. She shook her head slightly, reminding herself that she was simply letting Sebastian know as a courtesy—he had no right to stop her.  
  
“Privately, at his clinic.” Sebastian’s raised eyebrow did nothing to hide his incredulity. Really, could Hawke be so naïve?  
  
“There is nothing wrong with speaking with a friend.”  
  
Sebastian stepped forward and took Hawke’s hand and held it between both of his; his fingers rubbing her wrist but only feeling the cold harsh metal of her gauntlet. “Do you still consider him such, after what he did to you?”  
  
Hawke felt her eyes widen at Sebastian’s words. She shook her head, banishing the idea that somehow she had said something to Sebastian…  
  
“It took you a month not to stiffen at his name, or any mention of him…” Sebastian’s voice trailed off into a mere whisper as a flush grew at his revelation of having watched Hawke so closely.   
  
She began to chew at her lips, concerned that her body had given her away without her realizing it.  
  
Sebastian moved his hand from covering Hawke’s, reaching up and gently stroking her along the jaw with the back of his knuckles. He admired the beautiful rose that colored her cheeks at such a simple gesture. He longed to gaze into her eyes, but she kept them looking away from him.   
  
A bloom had taken over her cheeks at his gesture, but her body had stiffened. It was only then that Sebastian thought that maybe he had crossed a boundary without meaning to. It seemed such a simple gesture; but then again, that simple gesture stirred some longing within him—longing that he had thought was past him when he gave himself to the Maker.  
  
Sebastian rested his hand atop Hawke’s shoulder; the movement causing Hawke to look up at Sebastian, and into his questioning blue eyes.  
  
“Yes. Anders is still my War—my friend.” Hawke’s eyes looked away from Sebastian’s observant ones.  
  
“And so you would do as your friend asks.”  
  
“Yes.” Hawke felt in control enough to look into Sebastian’s eyes.  
  
“Of course you would.” Sebastian gave Hawke a sincere smile. That was Hawke, willing to help anyone in need, especially her friends and those she cared for. It may have been need that made her look at the Chanter’s board, but it was just Catalina Hawke to want to give Sebastian peace of mind about his family’s murderers.  
  
“I don’t have the power to stop you.” Sebastian gave Hawke a playful smile. “Even if I were so lucky--”  
  
Sebastian peered into Hawke’s dark and silky pools, willing her to hear what he dare not say: that he wished that he did have that kind of power over her, one to equal the hold she had over him.   
  
Sebastian held on to Hawke’s hand, as he brought it up to her chest, laying her palm flat against her left breast over her heart. He let himself lay his hand over hers, his fingers filling the empty spaces of her spread ones, “You should do what you feel to be right in here.”   
  
Hawke looked into Sebastian’s eyes with a deeper understanding. She had been so afraid that he would be jealous; but she also knew that there was no reason for Sebastian to be jealous—there was nothing between them Even though she liked to flirt with him, nothing could ever actually happen. It was this fact that made her feel safe in doing so because he was safe: a dedicated member of the Chantry who could put no claim on her. Still, she was happy that he understood why she had to try and help Anders.  
  
Sebastian watched as a smile bloomed on Hawke’s face, the pink in the apples of her cheeks making appear a bit cherubic. He saw relief and happiness twine together in her eyes, and before he knew it, she had her arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him; Sebastian’s arms automatically wrapped around Hawke’s shoulders, returning the warmth of being held so close.   
  
Hawke’s face was still raised to his eyes which had widened at her embrace, but his body relaxed in her hands. Both Hawke and Sebastian felt something begin to stir in each of them. Hawke dropped her hold, and Sebastian stepped away.   
  
An awkward silence began to grow, but then Hawke popped up on her toes and brushed her lips against Sebastian’s smooth cheek before she quickly turned and walked away; leaving a stunned Sebastian in her wake.


	28. Sin in Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult situations contained within.

Sebastian sat in his small quarters, attempting to spend his early evening in quiet contemplation; his forehead resting on his clasped hands. His cheeks burned as his mind wandered yet again—to that moment where Hawke’s lips brushed against him. His mind wandered back to that moment, his body remembering the feel of her pressed against him, her mouth raised up to him promisingly.   
  
It has been so long since Sebastian has been with a woman—and he has sworn that he would never have another except for Andraste. Still, Sebastian noticed Hawke and wanted to know her—to know more about her. Sebastian shook his head, as if the movement could stop his thoughts.  
  
Again, he tried to quiet his mind and re-focus it on how best to serve the Maker.   
  
Sebastian had offered his services to Hawke out of courtesy, but looked for her at every service, whenever he saw that someone had entered the Chantry door. Sebastian wanted Hawke to come and ask for him, to seek him out for his services.  
  
He began to wonder how Hawke’s lips would feel pressed against his, her body growing bold as it pressed against him—her hunger for him immediate and needy. His time with Hawke would be a luxury; the body she kept well hidden beneath metal and leather now revealing itself to his hands as he caressed her and learned the feeling of her body—the dips and curves, the sensitive spots that made her shudder and her breathing grow ragged.  
  
Sebastian saw Hawke illuminated by candlelight. Her mocha skin seeming to glow and be a part of the light, a part of the burning flames; such a beautiful contrast to when her body was pressed against his. She looked so beautiful on her knees; her body bared to him. Sebastian gazed down at Hawke, as her beautiful brown eyes were opened wide and looking up at him so innocently as she worked him like a desire demon.  
  
Her reddened and swollen lips kissed and teased his body; her hands ran along the back of his thighs as she cupped his ass pulling his hips towards her lovely face and waiting mouth: the tip of her tongue wetting her lips, as one of her hands came around his thigh to grasp him tightly. She began to lick him, slowly as if she were savoring every tasted inch of his hard member. Her tongue began to lavish his shaft, slowly working its way up to his tip, circling it as she drew him into her mouth.  
  
Sebastian watched as Hawke’s eyes closed in satisfaction of having him in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around him, as her hands began to feel her body: cupping her breasts and feeling their heavy weight; her thumbs brushing against her nipples, causing them to harden with desire.  
  
Hawke looked up at Sebastian as she began to bob her head up and down his shaft. He could feel her take him into her mouth deeper and deeper, one hand cupping his sack, the other working its way between her legs as her tongue and lips seemingly devoured him.  
  
She widened her kneeled stance, the mixture of flames and wetness causing her taut inner thighs to glisten. He let out a low groan as he watched Hawke begin to work herself with her hand, as she sucked his ever hardening rod with her hot and wet mouth.   
  
Hawke began to moan, and he could hear her fingers sliding and working her wetness, her fingertips circling and caressing her hidden pearl. She continued to bob her head up and down his shaft, moving to the rhythm her body dictated—he could tell the immediate building of her pleasure that was quickly seeking to be released.  
  
Hawke’s lips released him, and she looked up at Sebastian with her lips still opened wide—a string of saliva still connecting her mouth with his tip. She grasped him with her free hand, stroking him as she continued to work her fingers in and out of her moist and slippery center.   
  
Sebastian felt her hand tighten its hold on him as he watched her body shudder; his rod pulsed at the sight of that beautiful shudder and the flush that tinted her golden skin. She felt him twitch in her hand, and looked up into his eyes as she trailed her fingers slick with her wetness up her abdomen, and then against the swell of her breast, leaving a wet trail that circled her nipple. Hawke then ran her still slick fingertips against the tip of his member, spreading her essence onto him.   
  
She peered up at him as she took his tip covered in her silky wetness into her mouth. Sebastian felt the pressure of her lips as she took him in; Hawke’s tongue working the underside of his shaft, causing the wave within him to build higher and higher. Sebastian tried to step away from Hawke, wanting this night to last but she followed on her hands and knees, her mouth still hungry for him.  
  
Hawke wrapped her hands around the back of Sebastian’s thighs; holding him in place as she took him in deeper and deeper into her mouth until he felt the constrictions of her throat around his tip. Hawke looked up at him, her eyes opened wide in pleading desire. She continued to swallow him until her lips were pressed against his base—the excess saliva that had built in her mouth beginning to coat his sack as she held herself there against him.  
  
Hawke pulled her lips away from against his base until her tongue was once again lavishing the tip of his member—but it was only a brief respite as once again she took him completely within her mouth, pushing his rod deeper down her throat.  
  
It was all too much, it had been too long and Sebastian couldn’t control it any longer. He buried his fingers within Hawke’s dark tresses as he began to thrust his hips back and forth: first as slowly as he could, and then faster and faster pumping his rod in and out of Hawke’s hungry mouth. She never looked away from him, her eyes dark with want as he fucked her mouth. Finally, Sebastian gave a final thrust, pushing himself as deep as he could within Hawke, his hand pushing her further down as he felt his release—his hot seed shooting down her throat as he felt her swallow every drop he had to give.  
  
Sebastian stayed buried to the hilt in Hawke’s mouth until he felt completely drained. Slowly, he pulled himself from her lips, but she used her hands to keep him from going far—her tongue causing a sweet intense pain as she continued to lick him and taste of him again and again…  
  
Chantry bells echoed in Sebastian’s ears, waking him from such a sinful fantasy. His skin was covered by a hot flush and a sheen of sweat; his mouth dry from desire. He thanked Andraste for the saving grace of the bells summoning him to vespers—the bells that kept him from delving deeper into such wicked thoughts when his mind should have been focused on his service to the Maker.  
  
Sebastian stood his body tense with the dull ache of desire. He began to work his way towards his wash basin, his lips moving in a silent prayer that the water was cold enough so he could attend prayers with no one aware of his desires. Sebastian shed his gloves, his chest piece, his belt, his chainmail and leather until he was bare chested. He plunged his hands into the water, finding it cool. Sebastian splashed the water against his face and neck, feeling the cool droplets roll off of his chin and drop onto his lean and taut chest.  
  
Sebastian stared into the small mirror he kept by the basin, and found it hard to look at himself in the eye—he knew he should be feeling guilt, but instead, desire still smoldered within, its sweet smoky tendrils filling his mind with what he imagined was Hawke’s dusky musk, leaving no room for guilt nor shame.  
  
Sebastian began to hear the chanting of the verses, and told himself to hurry. They would wonder where he was, and someone would come looking for him. He had no choice, he had to dress and attend vespers, even with such a damnable state of mind. Sebastian hurriedly clothed himself, and swiftly put on his belt; the buckle feeling heavy and too tight against his hard member as he tried to latch the buckle into place. His mind was becoming frenzied—he could leave the belt behind, no one would notice--no one but Elthina.   
  
Sebastian closed his eyes and released a frustrated sigh. Clenching his jaw, he pulled the belt taut and latched the elaborate buckle into place. The Andraste shaped metal acting as a heavy weight hanging from his hips; placing a heavy painful pressure against his groin. With each step Sebastian took, the weight was balanced on his offending member again and again, reminding him of his lustful transgression against his bride and mistress, Andraste. Sebastian strode purposefully, feeling the painful weight press him again and again--he bore the punishment willingly, wanting to atone for his sin and the desire still buried deep within his thoughts and mind.


	29. Request: Spoken & Unspoken

Hawke stood outside Anders clinic’s doors, and Kitty stared at them. She didn’t understand why, but there was small shiver of fear working its way through her muscles. Hawke gave a dry laugh at herself: she faced dragons, Darkspawn, and blood mages without fear; yet her she stood, afraid to open a door leading to a friend. She began to second guess herself, after all, he had told her to stay away from him and like his good little girl she did as she was told.  
  
Hawke closed her eyes, as she remembered Anders making his request. They had just gotten done with a little “street cleaning” at the docks, and he was making his rounds as the group’s healer.   
  
Hawke never let him check her for injuries anymore; she did not go to him for healing—the idea of wasting his time still smarting from within. Sure, she developed new scars due to her stubborn pride—a Keeper’s magic could only do so much and the same could be said with potions and poultices.   
  
This time, when Anders made his rounds, and she turned from him, his hand reached out and grasped her wrist. Hawke had felt her body stiffen, and she didn’t even turn her head towards Anders—nor did she pull away from him. Hawke felt Anders come closer to her, and heard his voice whisper his request to her, so soft and low: “I need to speak with you, privately. Perhaps, at my clinic.”  
  
Hawke turned her head slightly towards Anders, and gave a slight nod in reply. Now, here she was staring at a wooden door like it held dark secrets behind its frame.  
  
Anders requested a visit, and like his good little girl she was standing outside his clinic doors.  
  
Hawke considered going back to The Hanged Man and finding Isabela. She had offered to accompany Hawke, but Hawke had declined. She was feeling awkward enough in speaking with Anders for the first time since his sudden and harsh rebuff months ago that she didn’t need a witness like Isabela to make it worse.  
  
Hawke began to pace a little, keeping time by slapping one glove against her hand. It was obvious that she was intending to enter the clinic, and just as obvious that she was nervous to do so.   
  
It wasn’t the fact that she was speaking with Anders since he sent her away. It was the fact that she was excited to speak with him again, excited to see him. This excitement fed into hope, fanning embers of desire that she had thought long grown cold.  
  
Hawke looked down at her chosen armor for the visit—it was obvious she still wanted Anders. Hawke was wearing her dragon hide armor—the armor that revealed a little cleavage and hugged her curves heralding that she was a woman warrior unlike the metal armor that often got her confused for a man.  
  
Hawke shook her head, she shouldn’t be like this. No, not when his request to speak to her was merely to use her for her blade—because that is all she had to offer him. She slapped her palm a little harder with her glove—physically mimicking the pain she felt at his remembered words.  
  
Hawke stopped. She stood in front of the clinic door, and took a deep breath. Using her bare hand she pushed a wayward curl behind her ear and stepped to the side as someone came out of the clinic. As the door began to close, she caught it with her hand and slid herself into the clinic.  
  
Catalina stood to the side, observing the clinic. It hadn’t changed—maybe a new cot or two, but nothing major. Her wandering eyes found what they were searching for: a tall blonde man with a worn feathered coat. Catalina’s heart began to pound a little, and she briefly closed her eyes as she made herself take a step towards him—towards Anders.  
  
Anders had been nervous all morning. He knew She would come to him today. It would be the first time since he purposefully hurt her in what seems like lifetimes ago. Anders kept himself busy with patients all morning, but found himself glancing at the doors every time he heard one open or close.   
  
He didn’t have to look—he felt Her come in. The subtle change in the air—her sweet scent seemed to make the air electric, causing his body to feel the small bursts of Her as he breathed her in. He slowed his breath, hoping that his muscles would relax.   
  
He turned and watched as Catalina made her way towards him. His eyes roamed her body, appreciating her armor—she rarely wore that set, and it was one of his favorites though he had only seen it one other time. It hugged her so well, the purple a rich gemlike color that complimented her mocha skin. Everything he had pushed away, that he had sworn was off limits to feel for Kitty flooded his mind as his body remembered how easily she’d reach for him, hug him and silently dared him to kiss her.  
  
What had he done, sending her away? It was for her own good—for her protection.   
  
He hadn’t realized how much Anders the man had been tied to Kitty, until this moment—every small step that Kitty took towards him, causing his heart to pound, and the sway of her hips acting like bellows towards the flame of desire he felt for her. Anders wanted to reach out and pull Kitty to him; to finally kiss her and feel her body respond to his demands. He shook his head at the idea—after what he said to her, if he did as he wanted, he was sure he’d wind up with a dagger piercing his skin.  
  
She didn’t do anything when you touched her.  
 _Her body grew stiff, she didn’t like it._  
She didn’t pull away.  
 _Shut up._  
  
She’s come back to you.  
 _I asked her here._  
And she came.  
  
Anders forced his hands into fists, and swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Catalina get closer to him. He needed to act fast if he didn’t want to apologize profusely and beg for her forgiveness.  
  
And with that thought, Anders immediately began talking as soon as Catalina was close enough to hear.  
  
“Have you noticed how many Tranquil are in the Gallow’s Courtyard lately? And don’t tell me I’m just sensitive to it. I’ve been watching and everyday there are new Tranquil. Selling their bloody wares. Good mages too; people I know passed their Harrowing.”  
  
Anders felt like he was rambling, and tugged at the small tail of his hair. He wanted to look away from Hawke, but wouldn’t let himself. His eyes studied her as she stood before him: she was prettier than he remembered: the apples of her cheeks were a beautiful rose, her plump lips a darker pink, and then her eyes—so dark and beautiful. Catalina’s eyes hid nothing from him, even now. He saw the mix of caution, nerves and excitement that she was feeling. The flame of her true self burning brightly beneath the dark chocolate surface called to him and he wanted to answer, he felt himself drawn to her—moth that he is to her siren flame.  
  
Pay attention; our request.  
  
Catalina stared up at Anders. She had felt him watching her as she crossed the room, the feeling growing stronger as she took each step. He had hurt her, and she still felt the stinging pain of his words though they had dulled. Now, here she was, standing before him—a flush crossing her cheeks as she realized that he was studying her. Catalina swallowed the lump in her throat, and responded to Anders.  
  
“Doesn’t Chantry Law say that mages who pass their Harrowing can’t be made Tranquil.”  
  
Anders focused on his task at hand: he needed Hawke for her blade like he had coldly said to her the last time they spoke. But he also needed Catalina Hawke in ways that frightened him. He focused on the former.  
  
“Exactly. The Templars are using the Rite of Tranquility to silence those who speak against them. They’re working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall within the next three years.”  
  
Concern crinkled Catalina’s brow. Anders couldn’t be right, could he? And what about Bethany? “Whatever you think of Templars, you can’t imagine they’re so heartless.”  
  
“They’re worse.” Anders crossed his arms in front of his chest, he squeezed his hands against his sides—he needed to keep them contained, to keep them from wrapping the wayward curls framing Catalina’s face around his fingers.   
  
Focus. The Templars—Ser Alrik.   
  
“There are groups in Kirkwall who help those fleeing the Circle. I’ve talked to people on the inside; the plan is the work of a Templar named Ser Alrik. I had a run in with him myself. He’s the one who did the ritual on Karl. Nasty piece of work, likes to make mages beg.”  
  
Catalina felt her lips open slightly in disbelief; she felt the color leave her cheeks as the sick cold wave of fear crashed over her: Anders has had a run in with Templars. When, why, how come she hadn’t heard of it before?   
  
Anders watched Catalina’s reaction to what he had said. He had stepped forward, his eyes seeing the beautiful flush that had colored her cheeks draining from her face as he admitted to having a run in with Ser Alrik. Anders stretched out his arms, his hands hovering around Catalina’s upper arms, ready to steady her if he noticed the slightest sign of her faltering.   
  
Catalina took a deep breath, and tightened her grip on the glove she held in her hand, her bare one flexing its fingers. She asked the simplest question she could form: “What happened between you and Ser Alrik?”  
  
Anders hesitated in answering her. Stupid, Anders. Catalina still cared for him, how quickly she turned so pale plainly told him so.   
  
She is distracting you already.  
 _Not this again._  
Focus.  
  
Anders dropped his arms and hesitated briefly before finally responding, “I’ve been involved with an underground resistance. Mages living free in Kirkwall who help others escape. I can’t tell you any more, for your sake and theirs. You have too much involvement with the guard and nobility. Suffice it to say, I’ve been in the Gallows. I’ve seen his work first hand.”  
  
Of course Anders would be involved with a resistance. Catalina’s mouth tightened into a thin line as she began to worry about Anders even more. He would have his hand in whatever he could to help mages. Resistances could be good, but they also attracted unwanted attention—each person a possible weakness to the whole—a weakness that could harm Anders. Catalina shook her head trying to wipe the thoughts out of her head trying to focus on Anders request. “What else do you know about Ser Alrik?”  
  
“The Knight-Commander is at least sincere in her convictions; however misguided she believes she’s helping people. Ser Alrik’s a sadist. Cold blooded as a lizard. He likes to experiment on mages. Find out what it takes to push them into the arms of demons.”  
  
“Then perhaps the blame can be laid on him and not every Templar.” Catalina hoped that it could be held against one man. She knew there were good Templars, but forcing the Rite on every mage was corrupt and damning of everyone who would let it happen. Catalina swallowed a breath as she waited for Anders’ answer.  
  
“That’s what I hope. If we bring the evidence of this plan to light, there must be men who would stand against it. Perhaps even the Grand Cleric will finally be forced to act. My friends in the mage underground know a way inside—a secret entrance under the walls of the Gallows.”   
  
Anders didn’t know what he would do if Catalina refused him. He could find another blade, but he didn’t want another. He wanted Catalina by his side, supporting him and helping him.   
  
Anders could bear it no longer; he reached out his hand, and took Catalina’s bare hand in his. He watched as her fingers automatically wrapped around his, the color of her skin a beautiful contrast to his, making the difference of the size of her hand and his even more apparent. Anders could swear he felt Catalina’s pulse quicken when he took her hand into his.   
  
He stared down into Catalina’s dark worried eyes and finally stated his request: “Come with me tonight, please. Help me find the evidence of Ser Alrik’s Tranquil Solution.”  
  
Catalina had to remind herself to draw a breath. She knew that she should pull away from Anders, but she didn’t want to nor felt that she should. Instead, she enjoyed the warmth that grew between their skin; she felt the heat travel into her and the blooming blush take her cheeks again with his simple gesture. Finally, Catalina found her voice again.  
  
“What do you mean, “Tranquil Solution”?”  
  
Anders released Catalina’s hand. He turned away from her, trying to hide the anger that he felt rising up within him.  
  
“That’s what he calls it. His idea of a peaceful solution to the mage problem: to sunder the mind of every mage in the Free Marches. I’m told he’s bringing his proposal to Val Royeaux; to the Divine herself. He would turn every mage in Thedas into a drooling simpleton under his command.”   
  
Even though he tried to hide his anger from her, Catalina saw it grow—how that anger changed the way he stood, and she noticed the tensing of his muscles and she knew that if she could look into his honey eyes, they would bear hints of blue.   
  
Catalina closed the gap that Anders had placed between them. Catalina reached for Anders hand, desperate to re-establish the warm bond that he had made. She wrapped her pinky around one of his fingers as she stepped up close to him, and leaned against him slightly.   
  
“I wouldn’t let you face this alone” Cat replied, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Their ears had picked up on each of Catalina’s steps. Anders felt her get closer and closer, and his eyes closed almost in prayer when he felt her finger wrap around his. Catalina’s answer was soft, and yet he held those words close to his heart: I wouldn’t let you face this alone. It wasn’t a simple yes—it held promise of more, of being his support and not just a blade he had taunted her of being.  
  
Anders turned and faced Catalina. He kept his hand in hers, and she made no hint of yielding her hold either. Cat’s eyes grew larger as they noticed the streaks of blue that made Anders’ eyes seem like a beautiful cracked piece of amber. Anders felt himself gazing into her brown eyes and started to get lost in them.   
  
You waste time.  
  
Anders tightened his hooked finger around Cat’s. He reached up with his free hand and gave in to one desire that had been dancing in front of his eyes—he wrapped the soft ever wayward curl of hers around his finger. Cat gave Anders a small smile, and he released the curl, brushing his knuckles down along her jaw. Cat felt herself give in and lean into his caress, melting underneath his touch.  
  
“You are the one bright light in Kirkwall.” Anders fingers curled under Cat’s chin. “I’ve always feared being made Tranquil; now more than ever.”   
  
Cat felt the sweet burn of what had been reignited within her—something that she had thought was deeply buried and could be forcefully forgotten. The way she was feeling in response to his touch and his words let her know that she had merely been fooling herself.  
  
Anders allowed himself the small luxury of holding Cat’s hand and chin in his hands for just a brief moment, and then he let go and turned away from her.   
  
“I’m ready to go when you are. Our entrance is concealed not far from here.”  
  
Catalina nodded her head, “I’ll let you know when I’m ready. It shouldn’t be long—I just need to make some arrangements.”   
  
Catalina quickly turned on her heel and walked out, fighting the urge to smile and the urge to let her hand linger where Anders had caressed her.  
  
Anders felt Kitty leave—the clinic seemingly growing colder without her warmth. How could he have not noticed how much colder it had been without her?  
  
Still, he was curious as to what arrangements had to be made. He knew that he had asked her to do something with him suddenly—but what called her away from him? Anders felt the old bite of jealousy stirring within, and focused on forcing it out of his mind—instead, he forced himself into his work to mark time until she returned to him.


	30. Hesitation and Reflection

Hawke sat in her bedroom scolding herself; she had nearly skipped up the stairs and into her room—replaying every look and touch that Anders had given her. Such a silly thing a smitten girl would do—yet she could not help herself. She smiled again, remembering his touch and the way he looked at her, even with Justice staring out of Anders’ eyes, she could feel Anders’ warmth.  
  
Catalina knew she had been dangerously close to doing something incredibly stupid and so had made an excuse to leave. She had no arrangements to be made, not really. Mother and Bodahn took care of everything just fine. Still, she stopped by the Chantry to check on the litter of kittens one of the Chantry’s mousers had given birth to. Catalina had wanted a kitten from the Chantry’s other mouser months ago—in fact that was the very news she had wanted to share with Anders that day when he purposefully hurt her.  
  
Catalina never got her kitten—she had picked out a beautiful chubby white kitten for her own, but when they were ready to be weaned, a little boy had wanted the kitten. Cat couldn’t refuse him, so she let him have the chubby ball of fur. Snowball was now a happy spoiled kitten of a kind little boy.  
  
Now, there was another newborn litter, and Catalina had already picked out the kitten she wanted: a little furry tabby, silver in color with a white belly. This time she would make sure she got her kitten.  
  
Catalina gave a small smile into the fire. She wondered if Anders would like that kitten as much as she did. And now her mind had traveled full circle back to Anders. Catalina lost herself to the memory of his eyes as he spoke his fear of being made Tranquil. The way those eyes looked at her as his knuckles caressed her—in those eyes she began to see the hidden depths of Anders and of Justice.   
  
Catalina crawled into bed that night with her mind still questioning if stupidly being in love with Anders also meant being in love with Justice—and even if  Justice could feel love like Anders.


	31. Protection

In the morning, Catalina had received a letter from Arianni. She had received a letter previously from Feynriel before and had gotten a little concerned but then heard nothing from him again. Now, she had received a letter from his mother.  
  
Catalina had meant to help Anders today, but reading Arianni’s letter, she knew that Feynriel had to be taken care of first. She immediately went to Anders’ clinic and explained the situation to him. Catalina was surprised at Anders’ response in that she hadn’t expected him to offer to accompany her—but she would not turn him away nor did she want to.  
  
Catalina stood in Arianni’s home, readying herself for the journey she was about to take. Granted she was not going far, but it isn’t every day that a non-mage willingly enters the Fade. Still, Catalina was willing to make the journey to help Arianni and Feynriel. In a sense, she felt obligated to help for she was the one who directed Feynriel to the Dalish and Marethari.  
  
Catalina looked around at her companions for such a different journey: Varric, Isabela and Anders. All three seemed a little wary, though Varric and Isabela were eager for the adventure. Anders seemed concerned, having admitted to not having been to the Fade since merging with Justice.  
  
She was bothered. It wasn’t Anders that bothered her; with him, she felt secure. What bothered Catalina was the fact that she had requested Sebastian to accompany her, but he denied her request. Indeed, he not only told her no, but discouraged her in making the journey herself. Catalina tried to state her case, asking Sebastian what alternative was there when a young man needed help being trapped in his sleep. He had no answer for her, only “It is no place for a man of faith.” Catalina wasn’t asking for Sebastian to push his faith, not even to question it. All she wanted was his companionship into a realm where she wanted to be with those she trusted and cared for.  Still, Sebastian refused to join her.  
  
Catalina shook her head, banishing all thoughts of Sebastian and focusing on the here and now: her companions who were willingly following her, and her purpose of helping Feynriel and making sure that he did not suffer what he had admitted to her was his fear: being made tranquil. She would care for Feynriel as her three companions cared for her—they would enter the Fade and all leave whole.  
  
They had entered the Fade. Catalina wasn’t sure of what to expect—in her mind, the Fade was someplace she could have never consciously entered, and yet here she was in the place where her soul only visited in dreams. She looked around wanting to take in all that she could. Marethari had told her they would be entering Feynriel’s dream and looking around, Catalina immediately recognized Kirkwall’s Circle.  
  
Varric and Isabela seemed stunned and curious about what they were seeing. Catalina also turned and noticed Anders.   
  
Kitty watched as Anders’ gentle face seemed to harden, his skin becoming colored by streaks of the blue that gave sign of Justice’s control. In the back of her mind, Kitty heard Sebastian’s plea of caution of being with Anders and Justice in the Fade, but she felt no fear at the sign of Justice’s control.   
  
When they had entered the Fade, Anders willingly gave way to Justice knowing that he could help Kitty more than Anders the man could in this realm. Justice felt the air of the Fade enter their body—the air familiar and secure. They saw through Justice’s eyes—the eyes of a spirit. When the others saw the uncertainty of the Fade as a faint shimmer, they saw the lines and designs of the realm. Justice stepped with certainty and authority.   
  
Anders peered through Justice’s eyes and saw the Fade in such a new way and new wonder. He couldn’t help but focus on his companions—the colors of their very beings shining and adding such sheen to what the living eye saw as dullness.   
  
“Anders?” Kitty called out to Anders questioningly as she moved to be closer to his side.  
  
Their eyes couldn’t help but to wander towards Catalina—Kitty.   
  
There was a quiet sharp intake of breath as they took in the—the light that was Kitty in the Fade. Through Anders’ eyes, they saw the impish beauty that stood beside them: her long dark curls, her soft golden skin that bore such a beautiful flush at their mere touch. That flush a siren call to Anders, and partly to Justice—a call to come and peer into the dark orbs that shone like dark obsidian lakes roiling with emotions; Anders was so willing to answer Kitty’s innocent and sweet call, yet he did not out of duty to Kitty and to Justice.  
  
Here in the Fade, Justice began to hear and understand the seductively innocent call ringing out to Anders--to them. Justice had no doubt that Kitty was beautiful to Anders. Here in the Fade, he saw the beauty that only inhabitants of this realm could see and appreciate. Kitty shone like a beacon in the dullness of the Fade: such a beautiful clear and rose colored flame—seemingly full of innocence and purity. Justice felt something stir, and knew that if he felt something calling to him from Kitty, others in the Fade would do so.   
  
Justice felt Anders’ body tense; they were waiting for demons to appear. Kitty Hawke’s spirit ringing out so loudly in the Fade-- only demons could confuse such an innocent and beautiful sound with the peal of a dinner bell.  
  
 _We must do something._  
We shan’t be here long.  
 _Will they not come for her?_  
They always do.  
  
Stronger ones are focusing on Fenryiel.  
 _But others will come._  
Then let us get started.  
  
Justice finally answered Catalina’s hesitant calling of Ander’s name.  
  
“I am Justice. Anders has told you of me. Come, I sense Feynriel’s mind straining. We will not have much time.”  
  
The small party began to walk forward; Justice stepping decisively while a slight hitch in their steps betrayed the others lack of confidence in being in the realm.  
  
 _Do something._  
There is nothing I can do.  
 _You are the spirit of Justice. Do something._  
  
They watched as Kitty headed towards a book that was moving around a column. She stretched out a hand to touch the book, but they reached for her wrist and shook their head no. Kitty looked at Justice questioningly.  
  
“Will it hurt me?” Kitty asked, unsure of herself in the Fade.  
  
“No. But there is a certain finesse to getting what you are wanting.” Justice held Kitty’s hand in theirs, and began to remove her gauntlet and glove.   
  
They were surprised that she let them do as they wanted with her hand, her eyes just watching them.  
  
“Your hand needs to be quick, and you need to move with purpose and certainty.” Justice looked at Kitty and peered into her eyes. He saw that she understood, but felt her hand tremble a little. Both of them noticed the color that was Kitty in the Fade grow brighter and became more imbued with red-- a hotter flame in a usually cold space.  
  
“Will you help me here? I’d feel better with your guidance.” Kitty’s voice was quiet, but filled with unspoken words.   
  
_You_  
We  
 _Have to protect her._  
  
They nodded their head. Justice held Kitty’s bare hand in his hand, and with his fingers felt along her wrist. Their eyes focused on Justice’s movements—watching almost reverently as he stroked Kitty’s bare flesh. Kitty stood, almost transfixed, watching what the man before her was doing—sense was telling her to feel fear but she felt none. The figure before her was doing something more than trying to comfort her, but she didn’t know what. She decided that she didn’t need to know, because she trusted Anders completely.  
  
Justice worked quickly, sensing that another inhabitant of the Fade had noticed their entrance and was watching. Soon they would approach, attracted by the beacon that was Kitty. His first thought was to brand Kitty along the wrist, but Anders held sway and offered something more material and human.   
  
With each stroke of their finger along her bare flesh, rivets were formed and linked—a small platinum chain forming around the strong yet delicate looking wrist in their hand. The chain having been created around her wrist, it bore no mark of where it began or ended. They moved her hand to their other hand, and stroked the back of her hand with their fingertip, running from the chain, up towards her middle finger, circling it with their own. Where their fingertip ran, the platinum links followed.   
  
Kitty watched what they were doing to her hand, felt Anders’ skin against her own flesh, and just held onto the moment—time seeming to hold still. She did not know if they knew what they were doing to her, but she was sure they could feel it in her pulse. Her quickening beat betraying her calm still demeanor.  
  
A small smile formed on their lips as they beheld their work—a platinum chain ran around Kitty’s wrist, linking to the ring they had left circling around her middle finger. The ring bore no jewel but there was a small symbol etched deeply in to the metal: a double balance scale whose pivot was that of a sword standing on point.  
  
Kitty looked at her hand, and briefly saw a glint; she concentrated on the areas that Justice had touched and saw nothing, but felt the warm trail that his fingers had laid. She looked up at him, and saw the small smile on his lips. Not really knowing why, she reached up with her bare hand and stroked Anders’ stubbled jaw as she simply said, “Thank you.”  
  
Justice nodded his head, and then gave Kitty back her glove and gauntlet. “Try now.”  
  
He watched as Kitty deftly equipped her armor and then reached for the floating book. Her fingers touched the tome lightly, and they watched as it fell to the floor. Kitty knelt and flipped through the pages of the book, not knowing whether it was the tome or whatever had occurred between her and Anders that made her feel a bit dizzy.  
  
She bears my mark.  
 _Kitty will be safe_  
Those who dare approach her to harm  
 _Will know they face the wrath of Justice_  
  
 _Will we have marked her forever?_  
It depends on her.  
 _How so?_  
When she does not want our care anymore, it will disappear.  
 _Good._  
  
They continued to walk and search the Fade. Kitty’s steps grew more sure and soon they had gotten to the main hall of the Circle. It was there that a demon grew bold enough to approach them and attempt to strike a deal.  
  
As the demon approached, the bracelet around Kitty’s wrist glowed, shining through like a warning beacon. Justice warned Catalina about the demon’s purpose, and the demon looked warily at Justice. He felt sure that Kitty would betray him and take the demon’s deal, but Anders knew better—Kitty didn’t even listen to the sloth demon’s offer.  
  
As they traversed the Fade, searching for Feynriel Justice was the only constant at Catalina’s side. Isabela and Varric fell to the demons’ offers and in the end, it was merely he and Kitty who were there when Feynriel became sure of his ability and walked out of the Fade confidently and on his own terms.  
  
Justice turned to leave, but Kitty grabbed his wrist. He looked at her questioningly, as she continued to hold on.  
  
“What and why?”  
  
“I do not understand your questions.”  
  
“What did you do when you held my hand and why did you do it?”  
  
Anders closed his eyes, waiting to hear the fear in Kitty’s voice but none was there nor did it ever come.  
  
“Are you afraid of what I’ve done and who I am?”  
  
“No. I’m just curious and rarely do I get to speak with you—with Justice.”  
  
Anders raised his eyebrow in surprise at Kitty’s admission. He never even thought that she’d want to speak with Justice.  
  
“You asked for my guidance, did you not?”  
  
“Yes. Thank you for helping me.” Kitty gave them a broad grin.  
  
“We gave you an emblem of Justice—a warning to demons who would attempt to approach you and feed.”  
  
“Like the sloth demon?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“But he still approached me.”  
  
“And he would have asked you to betray me."  
  
“Then with you gone, he could have…’  
  
“Yes. My mark bears no meaning if you do not want it to.”  
  
“Will I still bear it outside of the Fade?”  
  
“It your decision of how long it stays.”  
  
Kitty looked up at Justice shyly and gave him a small smile. “My choice.”  
  
Justice merely nodded his head.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Did you not ask it of me?”  
  
Kitty blushed at his answer to her question. “I did ask for your guidance, but I—“  
  
“Anders also asked it of me.” Justice noticed Kitty’s face light up and fall at the same time.  
  
“So, you only did it because of Anders?”  
  
“No. I did it because of you. You asked, echoing his request.”  
  
“But I thought you disliked me.” Kitty’s eyes grew big as she realized what she had blurted out.  
  
“You can distract Anders. In your realm, he is the one mainly in control. When he is distracted, the idea of justice is put on hold for selfish reasons.”  
  
“Is it selfish to care for someone?”  
  
“Only to the point of distraction.”  
  
“Do you know how I feel about Anders?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Does he feel the same about me?” Kitty held her breath waiting for his response.  
  
Anders smiled at Kitty, but Justice could not give her the answer she sought. Instead, he merely stated: “You must ask Anders yourself.”  
  
Kitty shrugged her shoulders and grinned at Justice. “It was worth a shot.”  
  
As she turned to leave, Justice followed, mimicking a move she had given Anders: he wrapped a finger around her pinky.   
  
Justice looked down at Kitty, and willed her to look him in the eye. She answered his unworded request, and he saw the shy uncertain woman behind her eyes. He released Kitty’s finger but then took ahold of her hand, holding it up before her, the bracelet he wove of himself shone brightly through her armor: “Understand this, Catalina Hawke: I do not disapprove of you.”  
  
Kitty looked at bright piece of light shining through her armor, and began to understand what it meant. Seeing the understanding in her eyes, Justice gave her a simple nod of his head and releasing her wrist, left the Fade.


	32. Moonlight Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina seeks to relax and questions her own fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter does contain some very mild descriptive language nothing extremely lewd-however, the word nipple is utilized.

Catalina Hawke did not know where the day went, but night had enveloped Kirkwall in its dark embrace. She climbed the stairs to her room wearily, her hand barely feeling the banister of the steps. Her muscles were tense and she wasn’t sure what the cause was: the journey into the Fade, her brief discussion with Justice, her semi-reunion with Anders, or her stiff words with Sebastian.   
  
Catalina crossed the threshold into her bedroom and closed the door. Before she could get it all the way closed, Havoc pushed his way in. Kitty scratched her loyal companion behind the ears. She had wanted to be alone and secluded, but maybe some time with Havoc would have to come before she tried to relax for the night.  
  
She sat on the floor and cooed at her lovable and loyal mabari. He sat and soaked up the affection, happy to see his mistress safe and sound. Catalina patted Havoc as she leaned against him and stared into the fire Orana had left going in her room.   
  
Havoc left her suddenly and Catalina did not chase after him. She knew that he could take care of himself, and that if he discovered anything concerning, he would let her know. Kitty stood and stretched her muscles. They still carried tension, and Kitty needed to relax. She began to disrobe, pieces of armor gathering in a pile at her feet. She ran her fingers over the back of her other hand and stared at the soft flesh. Catalina focused her eyes, but still she saw nothing but remembered clearly the delicate chain that Anders and Justice had created for her. They had said it would be with her until she no longer desired it.  
  
She smiled to herself as she gave in to the relishing of that thought: hers until she desired otherwise. Kitty closed her eyes as she traced a path where she remembered the beautiful chain flowing along her skin. In her mind, her touch transformed into another’s—she felt his fingertips against her skin. Traveling from her fingers up her arm and to her shoulder, caressing her neck. Kitty felt the warmth of his breath, as his lips followed the touch of his fingers. She dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of the nape of her neck, feeling him bite her and his warm breath easing the sting of his mark.  
  
She felt his fingertips along her shoulders, unlacing the ties of her soft cotton tunic exposing the flesh above her chest. Kitty felt her nipples began to harden, as she felt his palms caress the side of her breasts and along her abdomen working their way down to her waist. She felt his fingertips graze the flesh on her belly as he lifted the hem of her shirt, pushing it over her head. The warmth of his mouth enveloping her hardened nipples. Her fingers laced through his hair, pushing him against her as she raked her nails through his strands.  
  
He pulled her close, his hands cupping her buttocks. She felt him massaging her cheeks, she began to press and grind her hips against him needing to feel him, to feel his skin against her own.  
  
His hot mouth released her breasts and he stood, over her. She looked up into his eyes, and her body gave a start when she saw piercing blue eyes staring back at her. Kitty reached up and ran her fingers through his short reddish hair, and she heard him whisper “Hawke” with a slight accent.  
  
Kitty shook her head in disbelief at her own thoughts. When had her own fantasies betrayed her? Letting go a heavy sigh, she went through her nightly routine and crawled into bed.  
  
  
  
Kitty heard footsteps outside of her door, and she did not make a move from her bed. She listened as she heard the unknown intruder cross the threshold into her chamber and make their way to her bed. Kitty was on her side, and slowly worked a hand beneath her pillow to the dagger she kept there. She grasped the hilt as she felt weight settling on the bed next to her.  
  
Before she could turn and settle atop of her intruder, she felt a hand pressing down on her wrist—stilling the movement of drawing her blade. Catalina made out the white sleeve of a cotton tunic from the glowing light of the dying embers of the fire. The warmth of the intruder’s hand burning into her skin. She felt the weight of their body, and her body became tense. At the tightening of her muscles, she felt lips brush against her ear and whisper, “You are the one bright light in Kirkwall.”  
  
Instantly, Catalina stilled and her body became pliant underneath the weight of who could only be Anders. She felt his hot breath against her neck, his lips leaving a hot trail from behind her ear, to her neck and along her jaw as he turned her towards him. She lay in the bed, feeling herself opening to Anders’ touch, losing herself to his caress and feeling it ignite embers deep within her. Kitty stared up into amber eyes as they gazed down into her dark ones. Anders fingers caressed Kitty’s cheek so softly as his slowly brought his lips against hers.   
  
Kitty’s body gave a small shudder at the touch of his lips. The first touching so soft and brief, but then, Anders’ hold on her jaw became harder, his lips demanding more of her and she willingly giving all she had to offer. Desire ignited between them as Kitty arched her body into his; her hands roaming his back, pulling him on to her wanting to feel his weight against her. Catalina opened her eyes in shock when she felt cold metal beneath her palms and instead of seeing Anders over her, she looked up into Sebastian’s piercing blue eyes.  
  
Kitty awoke with a start. She looked around the dark room bewildered and concerned. She grasped a dagger tightly in her hand as she tried to calm her breath, her mind racing and her eyes searching the dark for signs of anything. Havoc raised his head from the bed, looking at Catalina with dreamy concern.  
  
Sighing to herself, Catalina lowered the dagger and forced her muscles to relax. She reached out and scratched Havoc behind the ears. “Easy boy, it was just a dream.” Havoc gave a quiet rough bark of agreement and laid his head back down on the mattress. Kitty grasped the covers against her.  
  
Again!? Why? Why did Anders become Sebastian? This was one of her favorite dreams, a fantasy she would give into in her slumber and wake from with a smile on her face—Anders coming to her, taking her in any way she cared to think of. And now her mind seemed to be betraying her, weaving Sebastian into Anders’ place. Getting out of bed, she settled on the floor in front of the fire. She was determined to find out why.


	33. Moonlight: Waxing Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina, Anders and Sebastian each have thoughts they must work through.

Kitty gave a deep sigh and stared into the fire pensively; just exactly what did she feel for Sebastian? Yes, she flirted with Sebastian—he was safe, a man taken yet not taken at the same time—promised to Andraste and unclaimed by any mortal woman. He was handsome and sought to be honorable, though he claimed to have been a wild and reckless youth: the rogue wolf tamed into a harmless sheep of the chantry.   
  
And what did Sebastian feel for her? She did not think he felt anything towards her except for friendly feelings if he even allowed himself such feelings. He kept talking of reclaiming his place as Prince of Starkhaven, yet she knew he was torn for he saw himself as a Brother of the Chantry. Catalina smiled into the flames for she knew what Sebastian refused to see, he would not take the throne when he won back his kingdom. He would find someone to take his place—for his heart was now bound to the Chantry and Divine. The only thing keeping him tied to his worldly title the idea of seeking justice for his slaughtered family.   
  
Kitty brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. Justice—who knew there was such an entity instead of just a concept. She turned her head and laid her right cheek on her drawn knees. She could have sworn Justice disliked her—aided in Anders’ refusal to see her as something more. But after today—again, she thought of the chain on her wrist, the sentiment behind its making…  
  
What did she feel for Anders? Her heart swelled as she gave a soft voice to what it had realized long ago: love. Even with the idea of his being “possessed.” She frowned at the word—was he really possessed? No, not to her: possession in that manner signified unwillingness, no control in what is done. Anders knew and willingly gave himself in what seemed to be a selfless act. How could anyone not love him?   
  
Whenever she thought of him, her body warmed and a smile was quick to tug at her mouth. Kitty loved who Anders was, and wanted him in every way. Even when she felt anger welling deep within her, she loved him no less. Those months where she worked to be ice to him, the time immediately after he threw those harsh words at her, she felt pain and anger. What was odd and hard to accept was even with that anger, she wanted comfort from him—not another. Anders had hurt her, but she just wanted to be held in his arms as they worked through their arguments.   
  
And what did Anders feel for her? Kitty stood and began to pace by the fire—what did Anders feel for her? He felt something, she was sure of it. And it affected him greatly—that’s why Justice deemed her the title of “distraction.” Did he care for her as a friend? Could she be something more to him: a companion or a--her cheeks blushed at the thought of the word-- a lover? Kitty felt that she had to mean something more than just a friend to Anders, but what that was she was unsure of—she knew what she wanted it to be, but she also knew her own feelings would alter how she read Anders’ actions towards her.  
  
When she and Anders fought, he had claimed that a man would be willing to give things up for a chance—but no, Anders wouldn’t give up the cause of mages so did that mean he would never take a chance on her? Would she always be pining over someone she could never have?   
  
The thought of losing Anders disturbed her, and she shook her head roughly seeking to dislodge the unwanted thought from her mind. She wanted to go for a walk, but it would do no good to walk the streets at night in such a confused manner—she would not be prepared for any surprises. Sighing, Kitty headed towards her door and to her favorite window.

 

  
  
The night was hard on Anders. He lay awake on his bed, staring into the night wishing that he could fall into dreams of darkspawn and old gods. He laughed at himself, who would have ever thought that he would want such dreams. Anders had the comfort of them for months, the whispers like white noise lulling him in his sleep. Now, with Catalina back in his life dreams of her immediately came again.  
  
He lay awake on his cot of a bed and thought of her, his Kitty. No, she wasn’t his and if was good, he’d make sure she’d never be his; however, in the dark of night…   
  
In the dark of night he gave in to those brown eyes, and that impish grin. He thought of sweeping her in his arms and finally pressing her soft pink lips to his. It has been so long since he allowed himself the luxury of being with anyone that when—if-- he ever gave in to Kitty, he would have a hard time in going slow and enjoying the moment—learning her body, enjoying her and opening himself to her.  
  
On some nights, he imagined her on her bed; on others, they were in the clinic or some dark corner desire fueled even more by the rush of possibly getting caught. Anders could almost feel Kitty’s curves underneath him, how her breasts would press against his chest, her back arching to press herself against him. Oh how he would make her his Kitty! His Kitty—more like he was her mage, her healer—his lips gave a devilish smile as he remembered what she called him--her Warden. He did not know how but she seemed to be unaware of how she already had him wrapped around her finger. He followed her to the Deep Roads, entered the Fade and would follow her anywhere she would go.  
  
Tossing and turning he knew the only remedy lay in Catalina Hawke herself. He let out a groan as he buried his head in his pillow—the ache of his body a pleasant burn that sought relief through the sweet salve that was Kitty. The ache of his mind and heart at odds with each other, and again Kitty held sway over each piece. Anders remembered the pain he caused her, and knew he would only cause her more pain but before Anders could descend into guilty darkness Justice brought forth the memory of her return, the way she looked at him with bright eyes and Anders finally acknowledge that he could never fully let her go not after she had become his light.

 

 

  
Sebastian knelt bare-chested at the edge of his bed; his head pressed against his clasped hands. Catalina had left him and entered the Fade despite his warning. He did not know if she had made it back. Sebastian was aware that he had angered her by denying her request for his company. No, she wasn’t angry—unhappy maybe. Sebastian smiled into his mattress as he remembered the way she had smiled at him so shyly before asking him to venture a realm that no man should enter.  
  
No, he would not follow her physically—but his mind went with her: wondering if she was safe, if Anders had turned on her, if she managed to escape such a place with all her innocence. Hawke did not come by the Chantry if she escaped the Fade; though he knew that she would have no cause to. No, she did not know how he felt about her—how she caused his body and mind to escape the grip of Chantry discipline: the curve of her smile and the curve of her hip, the softness of her voice and skin were will-o’-the-wisps tantalizing and guiding him down darkened paths that he thought he had left far behind.  
  
Sebastian felt the weight of his belt pressing against him. He had taken to wearing it until he felt the grip of sleep. He needed the weight to keep him grounded in his discipline; to remind his physical form that wanting a woman so was no longer to be a part of his manner.  
  
With a groan, Sebastian stood—his attempt at prayer finding his mind and lips worshipping another besides Andraste and the Maker. He had entered his room to prepare for sleep, kneeling to recite verses from The Chant of Light in supplication and penance for his thoughts and bodily desires.   
  
Instead, he found himself whispering Hawke’s name instead of his prayers. He smelt her soft fragrance instead of the incense he had burning. The incense and guilt was making him dizzy, as he longed to see her—no armor guarding her every move: no, not even her gloves she always seemed to be wearing around him. Sebastian wanted to feel the touch of her hand as it slid down his chest, her nimble fingers drawing their absent minded designs while her lips and tongue followed. He could feel the brush of her dark tresses against his skin as she licked and nipped her way down to his waist.  
  
Sebastian felt the pressing metal against his groin and shook his head of its stupor. He needed air, needed to break Hawke from his mind. He walked to his small wash basin and splashed the cool water on his face, droplets dripping from his chin as he stood and looked in the mirror. His eyes did not focus on him, but rather the small armoire where he kept his few possessions—chiefly, some rogue leathers he had grown fond off.   
  
Before he could think it all the way through, Sebastian shrugged of his mantle deeming him a Brother of the Chantry and slid into the cool dark leathers that had allowed him to roam, had let him be a scoundrel and a rake. Just for tonight, he wanted that freedom—wanted to escape and relieve himself of guilt and confusion. He was not a Brother, not a Prince, just a simple rogue in need of air.


	34. Moonlight: Rising Temptation (Sebastian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian goes for a walk in the night.

Sebastian left the chantry, his walk hinting at arrogance. He had no clue where he was going—he dare not go to The Blooming Rose for that would surely get back to Elthina. He may play the scoundrel, but he knew that with the morning light there would be penance for his transgressions. Sebastian briefly considered The Hanged Man but realized he would never escape Varric’s tongue and imagination. Nor would he escape Isabela’s attempts at seduction—he could deny her, but she would not stop trying. “There is no fun in surrender,” were the words she whispered into his ear, as the tip of her tongue traced its outer shell.   
  
Sebastian walked the dark Hightown streets. There were no gangs out—Hawke had cleared the streets out earlier during the week. It would take some time before others would be willing to test her ability; or think themselves quick enough to escape her notice.  
  
He found himself heading towards Hawke’s estate. Dare he go in? He knew that she would welcome him into her home without hesitation. But no, he didn’t want that. Instead he followed the shadows around to a window that he knew Hawke had the habit of going to and staring out of. It was late, and he truly expected no movement but he could make her out—the moonlight hitting just right to where it illuminated her figure and the buildings kept him in dark and shadow.  
  
Sebastian watched as Hawke looked out of the window—her dark hair brushing against her shoulders. His eyes grew a little wide and he licked his lips as he realized her shoulders were bare. Sebastian stepped further back into the shadows as he continued to watch Hawke through her window. He began to feel what had become all too familiar to his body when it concerned Hawke. The ache only grew stronger as he watched what she was doing.  
  
It was like his own private peep show—her figure framed by the window, the silver moonlight kissing her mocha skin with its silvery illumination. He watched her as she leaned her head towards her left shoulder, and ran her hand down her neck, her fingers trailing down and skimming her collar bones. He followed those fingers down her skin and noticed that she was wearing a top, the collar skimming low revealing her shoulders and the skin above her chest.  
  
Sebastian watched as Hawke grazed her fingers along the collar, and then as she licked her index finger slowly, before lining her lips with the wetness, and then biting the tip of her finger. He could have sworn he saw a flirtatious glow spark from her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, but her fingers were busy rubbing her shoulders, and then trailing down her skin, the fingertips hooking over the edge of the collar and pulling down—exposing more of her sweet flesh.  
  
He couldn’t help himself; he let out a small groan. At the sound of his hoarse voice—heavy and raw with need he pressed himself against the wall as he watched her lean forward and glance down through the window. She seemed to be peering into the dark for something, and he held his breath feeling tendrils of fear and shame climbing him.   
  
Sebastian saw her figure leave the window and his eyes followed her through the wall; his mind envisioning her in her bedroom, disrobing before crawling into bed. His breath caught in his throat at the image of her brown skin sliding underneath the sheets. His body wanted to follow her while his discipline pull at him—the leash of Andraste struggling to keep the dog under control.  
  
Closing his eyes, Sebastian drew a deep breath and began to emerge from the shadows and go back to his place in the Chantry; his wild self had its walk and it was time to go back to the life he chose. He glanced up to Hawke’s window once more, but his eyes caught movement from higher up—from the roof of the estate. Sebastian thought of Hawke vulnerable in her bed, and set off to make his way to her roof. Just because he took on the holy mantle of a Brother did not mean he let his skills as a rogue languish behind locked doors. He nimbly found a way up to the rooftop garden.


	35. Moonlight: Heavy and Full

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian finds the intruder on the rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Erotic depictions/fantasy, peeping involved

The area was full of perfume—scents of the night mingling with the sweet floral and herbal accents of mint and lavender. Sebastian crouched low behind large clay pots as he heard the intruder move about—the footfalls soft but noticeable in the calm stillness of the night. He would have preferred to use his bow, but the closeness called for more finesse—he withdrew a dagger from his leathers.   
  
Rising slowly, he peered over the petals of the flowers and his eyes widened as he recognized Hawke, sitting upon a small bench. He ducked quickly and attempted to still his quickened pulse. Hawke was there, seemingly bathing in the silvery moonlight. He swallowed a moan as his mind made the connection that she was merely robed in a thin sheet. Sebastian knew he should reveal himself and apologize. He was merely concerned for her safety—he had nothing to hide.   
  
He slowed his breath and readied himself to dodge; he knew that a surprised Hawke was an extremely dangerous Hawke, even so seemingly unarmed. Sebastian began to move slowly and once again raised his head above the scented petals, what he took in made himself lower to his knees almost as if in supplication before an altar.  
  
Hawke had been seated almost in profile, her knees facing away from where Sebastian waited. She had changed positions when he rose that second time. Hawke was standing with her back towards him, the sheet hanging low—he imagined she had the edges hooked over her forearms, causing the sheet to fall and swell along the curve of her buttocks, revealing Hawke’s back and the small dip above Hawke’s cheeks.  
  
Sebastian allowed his eyes to roam her exposed flesh dressed only in thin cloth and moonlight. He watched her tilt her head and sweep her curls over one shoulder. His attention focusing on the neck—the curve of flesh that he found so inviting and imagined to be so soft and smell so sweet, that it took him a second to realize that she had dropped the sheet completely from the left side of her body.  
  
His appreciative stupor was broken by the voice of a songbird in the distance. He closed his blue eyes, and listened to the high chirp of the bird—she should be asleep, saving her song for the rising sun—not out and letting her song get stolen by the whispers and echoes of the night. He told himself to interpret it as a sign—the bird’s call a warning of his sin, a calling back onto the right path instead of the darkened path he thought a part of his past.  
  
Sebastian decided that he would sneak way and apologize to Hawke in the morning—tell her that he had been worried about her safety, about her return from the Fade and then of her safety in the night. Sebastian bowed his head and placed his hands on his thighs readying to sneak away.   
  
He no longer heard the clear piercing voice of the songbird. Instead he heard her voice in a rough and husky whisper, “Don’t go. Stay with me—be with me tonight.”  
  
Sebastian’s head snapped up and his eyes opened wide. He looked beside himself and did not see Hawke. He peered above the plants hiding him and saw Hawke strewn across the bench, her head towards his direction. Her knees were pressed together, her arms falling loosely off the bench. He looked around trying to determine if she was speaking to him or some hidden lover. He saw no one, and swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. He was about to call her name when he heard her speak again—a small moan came from her throat as her hands began to caress her body.  
  
Sebastian realized that Hawke did not know he was there, that the only lover on the rooftop was the one in her mind. His eyes locked onto her body as his mind commanded him to leave. The wolves of desire and lust tugged at the disciplined leash of Andraste and found the chain slack. Sebastian remembered leaving behind his white armor and dressing in his dark leathers of old. The heavy weight he had been using as reprimand no longer with him, pressing its quiet pain upon his lust like a pleasurably cruel mistress. Tonight he had meant to give himself slack and to run, but not to break yet he knew that he would not be leaving that floral altar until he had received some sort of lustful communion.  
  
He saw the moonlight bath her skin, its silver shimmer illuminating her dark skin, adding to the seduction of the moment. Her hands became his hands as he watched her ran her fingers along her thighs--around the outside of those strong thighs and up her full hips until they found their way to her abdomen and worked themselves even higher.  
  
As her hands began to caress her full breasts, his mouth followed the trail of her fingertips. He watched her flick her brown hardened peaks, and felt a groan building in his throat. He saw her slide two of her fingers into her mouth and imagined how her warm wet tongue would lick at them, sliding between the two digits, making them slippery and wet. He saw a brief sheen to them as she took her fingers from her mouth and then used the wetness from her mouth to circle her peaks and heard her groan as she pinched her right nub with her wet fingers, her left hand squeezing her left breast as she continued to pinch and work her right hard nub on her right.  
  
He felt himself harden at the idea of appearing there at the bench, hovering over her—the musk of arousal seducing him as it broke through the perfumed night air. He would work her left nipple as she had shown him how by fingering that beautiful right mound of flesh. His tongue flicked through his lips as he imagined capturing that sensitive piece of her between his lips, teasing it with the edge of his tongue, nipping at it and then soothing the quick moment of passing pain with the heat of his mouth as he sucked it into his mouth, one hand cupping the fullness of the left breast as he suckled her and the other squeezing and teasing her right breast.  
  
Sebastian watched Hawke tease her breasts, wanting his mouth to replace those quick fingers working her sensitive mounds. He wanted those nimble fingers to respond to his body and touch and before he could give into thoughts of propriety and right and wrong, found himself releasing his hardened member from its confines and caressing it to the rhythm to which she worked her body.  
  
She kept one hand caressing and pinching at her breasts as she licked and sucked the fingers on her other hand. She worked two fingers in and out of her mouth, and Sebastian knew that those fingers were the hardened member of her imagined lover. He began to stroke himself to the movement of her fingers moving in and out of her mouth—his mind no longer seeing himself there on his knees but above her, straddling her body with his swollen tip lingering at her lips and pushing in and out of her. He could feel the heat of her mouth, the slick wetness of her saliva as she licked the length of him before opening her mouth even more and taking him in.  
  
He watched as she pushed her fingers further and further in, his strokes becoming deeper to match her movements. He heard her moan with pleasure at the teasing of her breast and the sound of her mouth being pumped and filled by her lover. Sebastian felt himself swell at the picture of him being her lover, there above her in the moonlight making her moan as she sucked him. Her hands working her breasts as he pumped in and out of her hot and eager mouth.  
  
Sebastian felt his pleasure mounting, and forced himself to focus on Hawke. He would wait to see how far she’d go, to see if he could wait until she gave herself that beautiful shiver of pleasure he felt building within himself.  
  
Her hands began to leave her mouth and breasts, and work their way to her thighs. Yes, as her lover he would caress those thighs and the beautiful treasure chest that they hid. Hawke’s hands became his as fingers worked to part her thighs, feeling the smooth toned inner thighs up to her silky, warm wet center. He felt his tip moisten as he stroked himself to how she raised her hips to meet her hand. He could only imagine how her fingers were caressing and working that beautifully part of her—her fingertips finding and circling her pearl as she raised her hips more forcefully, soft moans coming from her throat.   
  
He began to thrust his hips to echo her own thrusts, seeing her beneath him as he slid his hard swollen length in her wetness, teasing her pearl with his own tip before sliding it down to her wet and begging opening.  
  
Sebastian tightened his grip even more as she spoke: Take me. I’ve been waiting for so long. I want you—You’ll become mine and I’ll be yours, only yours. I’ve never had anyone before, but I want you and only you.  
  
He heard her breath quickening, and the idea of being her first--of taking her maidenhead drove his lust harder than before. His body naturally fell to matching her movements and rhythm. His paced quicken as he felt the well of pleasure reaching its breaking point, her words echoing over and over in his mind: I want you and only you. Sebastian heard Hawke give a soft cry of pleasure as the tense wave of ecstasy crested and broke, his own wave following close behind as his pumped in and out of her, his hot seed filling her virgin womb.  
  
He began to come down off of the high of his pleasure—watching her panting on the bench. He looked down and saw his member softening and his hand slick with his own essence. He looked up sheepishly towards Hawke’s direction, his mind battling against the hedonistic drug of pleasure still coursing through his veins, numbing his body to guilt and shame. He saw her stand, and how she looked at her fingers glistening in the moonlight. She brought them to her lips and drank her wetness in, licking her fingers clean. Sebastian mimicked her movement, bringing his own slick hand to his lips and tasting of himself, licking himself clean. He watched as Hawke seemingly turned in his direction and smiled, before wrapping the sheet around her and walking away.  
  
Without knowing, the word “Amen” fell from his lips as he watched her go and then straightening himself up, he left the seductive altar to make his way back to the weight and light of the Chantry.


	36. Moonlight: Waning Thoughts

Kitty collapsed in her bed, her body relaxed, her mind settled and her heart alight. She stretched her arms over her head as she gave into the lingering pleasure coursing through her. Kitty had found her answer and quiet joy filled her as she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

 

  
  
Anders lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise so he could do something—anything but dream of time with Kitty. His hands crossed his bare chest as he wondered if she were asleep or if he were to go to her door, would she welcome him in without hesitation? Would someone else be with her at this time of night? Anders muscles became tense with agitation and he decided the farce was over.   
  
He stood and lit a fire with the wave of his hand. He walked over to his makeshift desk and began to work on his manifesto but after what seemed hours, he simply added another piece of parchment to the stack of verses that sprung to his mind whenever he thought of her.

 

  
  
Sebastian slunk into his cloistered room; the cold panic of shame coursing his veins like ice water after the fire that was lust finished with him. What had he done, intruding on such a private moment and then pleasuring himself to the sight of her? He removed his leathers with a sense of disgust, but could not make himself throw them away instead putting them back into their place in his armoire.  
  
He walked to his wash basin, and submerged his face in the water. He lifted his drenched face and forced himself to look at himself in the mirror. Sebastian waited, as he stared into his reflected eyes, drops of water falling down his chiseled face. He dug into them, expecting to be hit with disgust and humiliation but he gave a cold chuckle as he realized—there truly was none. He knew there should be, everything he was taught told him those feelings should be there. Everything he experienced, from his past and from tonight delighted in the feeling; the liquid gold of lustful pleasure a potent drug.   
  
Sebastian remembered the sounds of Hawke’s voice, hoarse with moaning, the way her skin shimmered in the light, her musk in the air—the shared act of tasting their own essence a sort of communion between them. He thought of her words, and their meaning. He raised an eyebrow at the idea: could she really be a virgin? Hawke flirted effortlessly with everyone—he had assumed that she surely would have…but after what she said tonight, “alone” in the dark…Sebastian caught sight of his features in the mirror. He exuded charm, but his eyes and smile were those of a wolf watching its prey.  
  
The cold metal pressed against him, the heavy weight drawing disciplined attention to his thoughts. No, he was a Brother of the Chantry, he would not take Hawke but he could not, did not want to leave her. Sebastian decided that he would watch for her safety. He was promised to Andraste, but that did not mean he could not care for a mortal woman. Sebastian swore to himself that he would care for her in what ways he could: he would be there to help her, attempt to protect her in battle—protect her from herself if need be. The decision to protect her was easy, but the execution of it would be his self-imposed penance—to consistently see her, to be close to her but to never taste or partake of her.   
  
Sebastian dried his face and chest then relaxed on his bed, the cold metal harsh against his body in a teasing and torturous dance of guilt and desire.


	37. Promises and Posturing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catalina pays a visit to Anders' clinic, where she meets Sebastian and Isabela.

Catalina woke earlier than usual. She was eager to begin her day, and visited Orana in the kitchen and had her pack a basket full of sandwiches and baked treats. She also requested a tidbit for Havoc to be packed. After asking eating breakfast with Orana and Sandal, Catalina went back to her bedroom and set about getting ready for the day.  
  
She did not want to wear her usual armor but she did not want to venture out without some sort of protection. Kitty dressed in something akin to rogue leathers: a drake skin corset hugged her abdomen over her simple cotton shift. She donned a leather sleeve over one arm and on the other she left the cotton sleeve bare; on her hands she donned ringbands made of leather and metal. Tights and thigh high leather boots completed her outfit. She let her hair do what it would and the curls around her face seemed to threaten mutiny. She ran her fingers through her hair trying to put them in their place but gave up after new curls seem to join the rebellion.  
  
Having dressed, she retrieved the basket from the kitchen while thanking Orana profusely for preparing everything on such a short notice. Catalina called to Havoc and he followed her through the awakening streets as she made her way towards Darktown and Anders’ clinic.  
  
Anders could have sworn he felt Kitty enter the clinic before he even saw her or heard her voice call his name. His body gave a small shudder as electricity seemed to leap from Kitty towards him. Anders turned around from the table where he was preparing poultices. He watched as Kitty settled Havoc in a corner close to the doors. Even when resting the mabari seemed threatening, but Anders was happy to see Havoc accompanying his mistress—with Havoc in tow, Anders was more assured of Kitty’s safety.  
  
He let himself take in the image of Kitty as she approached him with a smile on her face, carrying a basket. Her dark curls bouncing with her steps. His eyes roamed her body appreciatively; wanting to take every inch of her in, wishing his fingertips could follow. She was armored but not armored—the leather offering her protection, but her curves revealed more than before.   
  
Anders looked into Kitty’s eyes as she got closer to him. He could tell that she had been watching him, for when their eyes met, her cheeks became tinted with a pink flush. Kitty felt her cheeks warm and knew it was a reaction to feeling the caress of his honeyed eyes. Anders smiled at her devilishly, a flirtatious glint in his eye. She responded to his unspoken tease with a teasing and promising smile of her own and slowing down the last few steps that would bring her to him, she began to swing her hips as a taunt.  
  
“How’s my Warden this morning?” Kitty whispered as she brushed past Anders to place her basket of goodies on his table.   
  
“And just what has my kitten dragged in this morning?” Anders asked hoarsely as he stepped behind Kitty, locking her body between the table and his own.  
  
Kitty smiled to herself as she dared to push a little further in her desires for Anders. She bent over the table, making an exaggerated dig through the basket, her full and round backside brushing up against Anders’ thighs and groin. She let out a small gasp as she felt Anders large hands grip her hips and pull her against him a little more. She turned her head and looked at him, and she saw something burning in his eyes.   
  
In a blink, he had released her and stepped away from her, walking to the side of the table. Anders crossed his arms, fighting feelings he had buried. He was getting close to losing control—to giving in to Kitty’s siren song. She deserved better than that.  
  
Kitty gave a small frown at his abandoning her, and then continued digging in the basket as she said, “I brought you something warm and sweet.”   
  
Anders swallowed a groan in his throat. She had to know what she was doing to him—there was no way she didn’t. The crazy thing was, he didn’t care that she was willingly teasing him. He liked it and wanted her to give him more, until the moment he knew he would break and there would be no going back.   
  
Anders gave Kitty a sly smile, “ _You_ always do, but what’s in the basket?”  
  
Kitty looked up at Anders in bashful surprise, her body warming to what he said. He was smiling at her, and he had relaxed his arms. She gave him a wicked smile in return as she removed a warm pastry from the basket. Kitty broke a piece of the pastry off and popped it in her mouth as she held the rest of it out to Anders.  
  
He reached out and took the offering from her, but his eyes did not leave her face. Overnight, it seemed as if his little imp morphed into a siren. He took a bite of the pastry as he watched her pink tongue dart out and lick the sugar from her lips.  
  
She watched him eat the rest of the sweet that she had given him. Kitty was sure Anders would enjoy it—Orana made the best pastries she had ever tasted. She hoped onto the table as he seemingly devoured the rest of the sweet after his first bite.  
  
Anders wasn’t sure what Kitty was doing, but if she wanted his attention she had it. Warm sweets and a beautiful woman—he was in trouble and knew it. He knew he should keep his distance from her but he was losing the willpower to do so.  
  
Kitty watched dark thoughts cross Anders’ face as he finished the sweet, and did not want to lose him again. She quickly reached out with her hands and grasping his coat pulled him towards her. Anders was surprised at her actions, and so her small frame moved his larger one with ease. Kitty pulled Anders close, her lips seemingly brushing against his chin as her tongue darted out and tasted the sugar that had gathered at the corner of his mouth.  
  
She gave a small groan as she felt his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the table and pressing her against him. Kitty’s hands released Anders’ coat and hooked themselves behind his neck, her fingers alternating between massaging the back of his neck and scraping up against his scalp. Her body began to tremble underneath his touch, as his lips hovered over hers—they felt each other’s warm breath, and the world just seemed to stop.  
  
“Well go on, then! Don’t let propriety stop you—it’s never been able to stop me.” Isabela said with a wink.  
  
Kitty turned her head, her hands grasping Anders’ shoulders and gave Isabela a glare that was as sharp as the daggers she carried. She felt Anders begin to pull away, and turning to look at him, saw the heat from before draining away. Still, he kept his hands at her waist and began to lift her from her chosen seat. Kitty gave a small giggle as Anders lifted her with ease and placed her standing beside him.  
  
“Isabela, perhaps we shouldn’t have intruded?” A soft accented voice came from behind her, and both Anders and Kitty finally noticed Sebastian being in the clinic.   
  
Sebastian’s eyes appraised the new look Hawke was sporting for the day. He had to admit that he rather liked the leather look on her as opposed to the cold wall of armor she usually sported. His eyes were drawn to her drake skin corset and how it lifted her breasts and flared just perfectly at the curve of her hips. His mind took him back to the previous night in that dark moment of his intrusion where he got to see her full natural beauty. Sebastian could feel the predatory gleam that he saw in his reflection after returning to his room shining in his eyes.   
  
Kitty felt a blush from embarrassment cross her cheeks as she felt Sebastian looking her over. Either from the roaming of Sebastian’s eyes or from having not gotten her balance properly, she gave a small stumble as Anders released her waist upon hearing Sebastian’s voice. Kitty readied herself for that moment of coldness when Anders would step away from her like he was guilty for having even looked at her.   
  
But then Anders noticed the gleam from Sebastian’s eye and even though he was damning himself for doing so, his arm quickly reached out for Kitty, not only steadying her and preventing her fall, but hugging her close him with his hand resting on the full curve of her hip.  
  
Isabela glanced between the two men and smirked to herself. They were posturing for Cat and neither would admit to doing so. She then looked at Cat and realized that her sweet naïve pigeon didn’t even realize what the two men were doing.  
  
“Well, when you two boys are done growling at each other,” Isabela began to tease as she walked over to the table and began digging through the basket, “Hawke and I will be here enjoying these yummy sweets.” Isabela held up a sweet roll, and looked at Hawke.  
  
Catalina gave a grateful smile to Isabela and giving a squeeze to Anders’ hand, stepped away from him and took the roll from Isabela’s hand. Anders and Sebastian stared at each other briefly before Sebastian looked away towards the two women. Anders crossed his arms as he watched Sebastian.  
  
“So, Isabela what brings you to the clinic today?” Anders asked, attempting to regain control of the situation.  
  
Both Isabela and Catalina turned to look at the men, as Isabela nudged Catalina with her arm. “I’m just here tagging along with Sebastian. He said he was looking for Hawke.”   
  
Catalina watched as Anders tightened his jaw at Isabela’s words.  
  
“By all means, don’t allow me to get in the way.” Anders smirked as he straightened to his full towering height. He turned and began to work on his unfinished poultices. Sebastian cleared his throat and moved towards the women.  
  
“I just wanted to see if you made it safely back from your travels.” Sebastian took a step towards Hawke and grabbed her hand. “I’m glad to see that you’ve returned safe and unharmed.” Sebastian smiled at Hawke flirtatiously as he brushed his lips against the bit of exposed skin on the back of her hand.  
  
Catalina was shocked at the gesture, and gave a small surprised smile in response. Anders ground the herbs with the pestle he was holding a bit more forcefully, and Isabela sat, picking at her sweet roll, watching everyone as if they were performers in her own personal play.  
  
“Yes, I made it back safe and sound.” Hawke said rather cooly pulling her fingers from Sebastian’s grasp. Anders watched from the corner of his eye and felt a small hint of satisfaction at the sound of Kitty’s voice. Kitty had not forgotten nor forgiven that Sebastian had refused what she saw as a simple request.

“Of course, having Anders and Justice with me as companion and guide helped immensely.”  
  
Sebastian grimaced at Hawke’s words. Of course she hadn’t listened to him when he tried to convince her to leave Anders behind. For all they had known, Anders would have betrayed Hawke to the very demons they sought to fight. At some point, he would have to make her see what fire she was embracing and playing with in befriending Anders.  
  
“I’m glad. Though, I’d be careful with who you openly associate with.” Sebastian rested his hand on Hawke’s shoulder, and looked down into her eyes. He felt her muscles tense at the weight of his hand, but she did not jerk away from him. Sebastian turned and faced Anders, “Of course, I mean no offense.”  
  
Anders glanced at Sebastian, “None taken, though maybe you should apologize to Isabela.”  
  
“Hey! I heard that.” Isabela smiled in response. It had been awhile since she had watched a non-physical confrontation between two potential lovers—even if they weren’t hers. Who knew the choirboy had it in him?  
  
Anders placed the pestle he was working with down into the bowl of the mortar and looked at Kitty. “Though he is right. Things just keep getting worse. I had Templars practically on my doorstep the other night.”  
  
Kitty’s eyes opened wide. “Don’t tell me these things.” She then gave Anders a wicked little smile, “I might have to lock you up…” Kitty turned towards Anders, a glow hitting him from her dark brown eyes, “…you know, to keep them off of you.”  
  
Anders basked in the seductive glow Kitty was directing his way, “Sweetheart, I’m not letting anyone lock me up.” He gave Kitty a wink, and reached out brushing his fingers against her jaw as he tucked a wayward curl of hers behind her ear. “You included.”  
  
Kitty knew her cheeks were burning a bright pink. Anders smiled at the reaction he caused in her, and Sebastian felt his muscles tense. Isabela was enjoying the show, but decided to help Cat in her obliviousness.  
  
“Oh look! Let’s give the poor dog a bone!” Isabela held up a bone that had not been completely stripped of meat and looked towards Sebastian. Sebastian briefly took his eyes off of Anders and Hawke and directed them towards Isabela.   
  
“I’m sure Havoc would be more than happy to meet you.” He responded a little roughly.  
  
“Yes, and that’s what would make him scary. Have you ever seen such a beast want something so bad?” Isabela’s voice had a not too subtle teasing tone, as she grabbed Sebastian’s hand and pulled him along with her to the corner Havoc had been settled in.  
  
Anders and Kitty watched as Isabela pulled Sebastian along with her. Anders almost felt sorry for Sebastian, almost but not quite. He gave a sigh and crossed his arms; Sebastian had been right though—Kitty needed to be careful. He turned and looked at her with a sudden seriousness on his face.  
  
“The Knight-Commander is out of control. Even her own people have been talking about it. The curfews, the midnight raids on mages’ families—Every one I know forced into hiding so they won’t be made tranquil.” Anders felt his muscles tense and familiar anger began to creep upon him. It wasn’t right, families being torn apart and made to fear their own loved ones--mages afraid to even make contact or be with people who loved them.  
  
Kitty knew that the Knight-Commander had become strict—even more than before. She needed to be stopped, and there was no way someone like Meredith would keep her from Anders. Kitty stepped closer to Anders and placed her hands on his wrists, pulling his arms away from him—opening the barrier he kept trying to place between them. “If they want you, they’ll have to come through me.”  
  
“Just being with me puts you at risk.” Anders shook his head Kitty, his hands capturing hers.

“The Knight-Commander has declared supporting apostates a hanging offense.” Anders pulled Kitty closer to him, releasing her hands and brushing his knuckles down her jaw as she looked up at him. She seemed so innocent, and they would hurt her because of him. He again felt the familiar burn of anger bringing Justice to the surface and roughly backed away from Kitty and looked away. “The thought of them hurting you—“   
  
Kitty reached out for Anders’ hand, not wanting him to hide from her. He turned and faced her, and she saw the blue streak his eyes like lightning.

“Everything I’ve done to control this…” His eyes became stormy and dark, a swirl of cold harsh electricity and mixed with warm caring amber. Anders briefly closed his eyes, and opened them to find Kitty close to him, peering up at him with concern, and what he hoped was love on her face. “I don’t care. I would drown us in blood to keep you safe.”   
  
Kitty was stuck by the sentiment—for Anders to even think of doing such an act, even with the virtue of Justice carried within him…This was the closest he’d ever been to revealing his feelings for her. But no, she knew what such an act would do to him and she would not let that happen—not for her or anyone.

She reached for him, rising to cup his face in her hands, “I don’t want to see you lose yourself, to the Templars or Justice."  
  
Anders grabbed her wrists before she could raise her hands to his face. His grip was harsh, “How much is left if you strip both those out?”

He stared down into Kitty’s eyes and saw her wince at his grip. He softened his hold, feeling how strong yet so delicate her wrists were.

“I’m sorry, I can’t be anyone but who I am.” He let go of her wrists, wishing it was truly as easy to let her go—to make her run from him. Anders stepped away from Kitty, meaning to turn away as he whispered what he knew to be a promise and a truth, “There will be more violence. I know that. If you tie yourself to me, I’ll only hurt you.”  
  
Kitty could see the turmoil in Anders, and only wanted to comfort him and offer him the solace of her—he had to see that she would be his if he only would accept her. Again, she reached up to hold Anders’ face in her hands, “You keep saying that; you haven’t yet.”   
  
Anders stroked her wrists as he felt her warm small fingers against his cheeks. She stood on her toes, and looked at him with such earnestness; she pulled his face closer to hers as she whispered her own promise and truth, “Nothing would hurt as much as losing you.”   
  
Kitty felt her heart begin to race and Anders felt himself breaking beneath Kitty’s gentle touch. He pulled on what lingering strength he had when it came to Kitty and pulled her hands away from his face, he placed them together, holding them captive within his own.   
  
“You don’t want to do this.” Anders forced the words from his mouth, though neither Kitty nor Anders was sure if he was speaking to her or  himself.

He called on Justice to break through to show Kitty what danger they held and the air crackled and Kitty felt a jolt of the power man and spirit held. Anders warned Kitty: “I have no control around you.”  
  
Anders took on of his hands and turned Kitty’s face towards the corner of the clinic where Isabela and Sebastian stood. He placed his cheek against hers, keeping her head towards what he wanted her to see. Anders’ voice became hoarse with emotion, “You could have a normal life. You don’t want to be with an apostate.”  
  
Kitty stubbornly turned her head against Anders, looking at him, “But what does my apostate want?”  
  
Anders felt the fire that Kitty always seem to build in him grow stronger fueled by her words: My apostate…My Warden…“Don’t tempt me; not unless you’re ready for what that means.”   
  
Anders seemed to drop Kitty’s wrists and take the few steps back to his work table, again working the herbs in the mortar, wishing to crush the way he felt about Kitty like he was crushing the leaves of the herbs. Anders wanted Kitty, wanted to be her life but there was too much danger. He knew he should hope that she would listen to his warning and go with Sebastian, with anyone else—yet what his heart truly desired was something else entirely.   
  
Kitty, felt a chill—the first wave cold from the way Anders dropped her wrists, but the second wave, electric and hot. It wasn’t from Justice or Anders—not magic anyway. It was the fact that he did care for her—dare she even say, loved her.   
  
With a sigh, and even more determination, she walked to Anders work station. Looking at Anders, she waited for him to look at her. He would not look away from his work, and she did not feel the need or desire to push him; so she reached out and placed her hand on his upper arm. “We’ll meet tonight, and we’ll go and see about Ser Alrik.”


	38. Triage

“Trash. Trash. Keep. Trash. Trash.” Anders combed through his things, the piles of papers he had been keeping. He came across a love letter he had started writing to Kitty and grimaced, “Won’t be needing that anymore.” After what just happened, he seriously doubted she would still want him which was most likely for the best.  
  
Kitty walked into the clinic, her eyes sweeping the room for Anders. She spotted him crouched in a corner, sorting through things. She knew what he was doing, how he was combing through his things, picking out what he absolutely wanted so he could leave quickly. “You’re upset, we need to talk about it.”  
  
Upset? Really? Surely there was a better word to describe how he was feeling?

“Upset doesn’t begin to cover it.” Anders stopped combing through his things, and stood; his back still towards Kitty. He was afraid to turn around and what he’d see on her face. “You were the only thing that kept me from murdering an innocent girl.” Anders straightened his shoulders, and forced himself to turn and face Catalina.  
  
"It’s all gone wrong. Justice and I. We’re just a monster, same as any abomination.” He saw the look of satisfaction on Sebastian’s face and his eyes sought out Kitty’s eyes. He found those deep chocolate eyes looking up at him, not with fear or wariness. She had no sense; she needed to see him for what he was:  “I’m a monster. Justice has been warped by my rage. I cannot contain him any longer.”  
  
Kitty heard the shame and guilt laced into Anders’ words. This was one time out of numerous others where he broke but still, he was still there. “You were out of control; but even then you heard what I was saying.” Kitty took a step towards Anders, “You knew, in your heart that you had to stop. “  
  
“You have too much faith in me.” Anders took two steps back and away from Kitty. No, he didn’t deserve her comfort even though it warmed him completely, even though he wanted it. “Without you, I’d never have known who was there until it was too late.”  
  
She was looking at him with those big doe eyes, all he wanted to do was reach out and finally kiss her after all this time. Guilt flooded him and he shook his head—he nearly killed a girl and here he is thinking only of himself.  
  
“How can I fight for the freedom of mages, when I am the example of the worst that freedom brings.” Trouble crossed Anders’ face as he thought on his words—he always denounced mages who turned to demons when they felt they had nothing left yet look at what he has done.  
  
Kitty could tell she was losing Anders, that he was withdrawing from her and into himself. She couldn’t’ let that happen, not after all this time. Anders would not take consoling words that minimized what had occurred but he needed to be reminded that he could control himself and Justice.  
  
“Mages are dangerous. That’s why this has been so hard.” Kitty began moving forward, closing the gap that Anders had placed between them. She began to reach for his hand, “Make yourself the proof that they can control their powers. “  
  
Anders again took a step back, crossing his arms to keep himself from reaching out and clasping Kitty’s delicate fingers in his own. “I don’t know how.” He shook his head and looked around the clinic. So many people came to him for help.    
  
“How can I even trust myself to heal anymore. What if that creature of vengeance turns on a patient. Will he, will I resist or will I loose his fury?” His brow became furrowed as he thought of the possibilities—of harming an innocent who came to him for help only to be harmed further.  
  
Kitty took a step back, not wanting to push Anders away anymore. At least now he didn’t seem like he would run; not immediately anyway. She gave him a small crooked smile: “You—Anders--wouldn’t harm anyone who came to you for help, no matter who they were. I’m not afraid.”  
  
Kitty walked towards the pile of papers that Anders had been sorting through. She crouched down, and scooped up the papers, noticing her name on one of the pages. Her eyes opened wide and she was tempted to take the parchment. She cleared her throat and straightened the papers in her hand. Kitty held them out to Anders, “We got rid of Ser Alrik, right? Meredith will look damn right reasonable in comparison.”  
  



	39. Laced Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian confronts Catalina Hawke about Anders.

“I want to talk to you, Hawke.” Sebastian turned to Hawke as he reached for her hand. He took her gloved fingers in his, holding on to them, wanting to lace his fingers through hers but unsure of her reaction of such a simple gesture.  
  
Hawke kept her fingers in Sebastian’s hand, curious as to what he wanted to talk to her about. He rarely approached her when she “snuck” into the Chantry to keep a candle lit for her father and brother.  
  
She followed him as he guided her to a pew and then sat beside her, his body angled towards her. Sebastian swallowed the lump in his throat, he knew what he was about to say had the possibility to anger her but he knew it would be the only way for her to see the truth.  
  
Hawke noticed Sebastian’s hesitation and her muscles began to tense. “What do you need to speak with me about?”  
  
“I want to talk about Anders.” Sebastian felt Hawke jerk her fingers from his grasp, and heard the small gasp that she had released at his name.  
  
Catalina’s mind raced over Sebastian’s words and the tone of his voice. She knew that she really shouldn’t be surprised—deep down she knew that this conversation was coming; she would have been surprised if it had never occurred. Sebastian was still too much of a Brother, still too tied to the Chantry and its rules and laws that she was amazed he hadn’t said something before.  
  
“You’ve always known that Anders is a mage, Sebastian. And I’ve been grateful you haven’t said anything to the Templars—“  
  
“He has been doing good works, serving those with need without thought. Magic was made to serve man—“  
  
“Anders doesn’t seek to rule over anyone.” Hawke was quick to defend Anders against any volley Sebastian was preparing. She began to fidget in the pew, her mind seeming to spin faster as she tried to plan ahead—to stay a step ahead of what was coming. She had always trusted Sebastian—had felt no need not to but now, now his words sent her into a tailspin.  
  
“No, he doesn’t and he has never claimed the desire.” Sebastian wanted to make this easy for Hawke. He knew that she cared deeply for Anders, and what he was about to suggest would not be easy for her to accept.  
  
Sebastian placed his hand over Hawke’s, his fingers covering hers along the seat’s edge. Hawke turned and looked at Sebastian, steeling her gaze as she waited for his obvious suggestion. Sebastian could read the fear and discomfort in Hawke’s dark eyes—those eyes he loved to peer into and knew would only grow darker as he fed the tempest inside of her.  
  
“He almost killed a girl today, Hawke.”  
  
“But he didn’t kill her. That is what matters.” Hawke felt the heat of Sebastian’s hand on hers—his heat almost burning her as her fingers had grown numb from their grip. She was thankful for her gloves, had she not worn them, she was sure the seat would bear marks from her nails digging into the wood.  
  
“He came dangerously close. Does that not matter?”  
  
“Anders did not kill that girl.” Hawke felt her mouth begin to tremble.  
  
Sebastian noticed the movement of her lips—he did not know if her trembling came from anger or fear. Perhaps she knew just how dangerous Anders was, and just needed a push to properly take care of Anders. This was all about her safety and wellbeing—at least, that is what he kept telling himself.  
  
Sebastian released Hawke’s hand, and reached up to push a tendril of her hair behind her ear. His muscles tensed with pain when he noticed her flinch beneath his touch in the simple gesture.  
  
“Anders did not kill her. But Anders isn’t just Anders—“  
  
“Don’t, Sebastian. I know who Anders is.”  
  
“He is no longer a ‘who’, Hawke. He is a what—a very dangerous what at that.”  
  
“Anders is a person—“  
  
Sebastian began to grow frustrated with Hawke and with himself. She was being so stubborn, and all he wanted to do was convince her that he was offering her safety as opposed to the danger that Anders would only bring. Sebastian was offering all that he could to Hawke within the realm of a Chantry Brother; he would give her promises made from the lips of a Prince fighting for his kingdom; and he wanted her with all the desires any mortal man could have—desires he hadn’t felt or indulged in since he bore the title of rogue and rake; desires that made him fall into sinful and sinister lust made beautiful in the moonlight.  
  
Sebastian felt frustration, jealousy and—and admiration. Hawke was dedicated to those she considered her friends—no matter who they are or were.  
  
But he could not help but wonder if her dedication to Anders was fueled by something more—something he himself desperately desired but knew was never his privilege to have: her heart and perhaps her very soul. It was those precious things he was trying to protect from the very being that unknowingly held them in its hand. He admired how she stayed so loyal to those she cared for. She did care for him, would she offer him such loyalty—or is her loyalty merely reserved for Anders? Hawke would have to be forced to confront the truth; Sebastian was sure it was the only way to take her--  Take her away from useless danger, Sebastian set his jaw as he corrected himself.  
  
“Face it Hawke: Ander is an abomination.”  
  
Hawke felt the flush of anger color her cheeks; how dare Sebastian call Anders an abomination! She stood knowing what would cross Sebastian’s lips next.  
  
“He is dangerous, Hawke. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if he was given to the Circle?” Sebastian looked up at her from the pew, his face becoming hard as he saw that she would not give in so easily.  
  
“Given to the Circle!” Hawke backed away from Sebastian, wanting as much distance between them.  
  
She was afraid: afraid of the man standing before her and how easily he suggested betraying a friend; afraid of what she wanted to do to protect Anders—and afraid for her heart. She had grown to care for Sebastian and his ease with such a suggestion revealed the truth to her eyes: he would always be a Brother of the Chantry, never just a man she cared for, or a man who cared for her.  
  
“No, Sebastian. I will not “give” Anders to the Circle.” Hawke spat the words from her mouth like venom sucked from a wound. She took hard strides towards Sebastian, closing the distance she had set between them; her small frame seemingly towering over him as he sat there.  
  
“Don’t you know what they would do to him?” Hawke’s eyes grew wide in sheer terror at the thought.  
  
Sebastian watched as her concern and fear dropped her proud shoulders and showed just how small Hawke really was—how vulnerable she was and why he needed to protect her. He didn’t want to hurt her or worry her, but he wasn’t going to lie.  
  
“I’m sorry Hawke, but I don’t think the Rite of Tranquility would work on Anders—not with that…” Sebastian searched Hawke’s eyes as his mind raced to find words that would draw her to him and not push her away “…not when he is what he is.”  
  
“What he is?!” The feeling of incredulity and betrayal put her on guard again, her stature seeming to rise, anger tinting her words. “He, Sebastian, is Anders.”    
  
She had to make Sebastian understand--to make him see that what he was asking her to do was not only cruel to Anders but also to her. This was Sebastian, he would listen and she would find a way to make him understand.  
  
Hawke dropped to knee before Sebastian; she looked up at him as her hands reached up and grabbed his shoulders—forming a connection so he could feel how her body and soul reverberated with her words. “Anders is Anders. Just as you are you. You deserve love and kindness…” Hawke released one of Sebastian’s shoulders as she cupped his cheek with her right hand.  
  
Sebastian looked down into Hawke’s hopeful and tempting eyes—his mind told him to beware such dark eyes for you could never know what lay beneath them but Sebastian felt himself falling to them, being pulled closer to their richness by the gentle touch of her hand.  
  
Hawke continued to look into Sebastian’s blue eyes, knowing that her own eyes were pleading with him, begging him to understand. “I am simply me; I want love and kindness.” Hawke dared to stroke Sebastian’s jaw, feeling the heat of his skin tempting her to touch him without her gloves—to feel his flesh against her fingertips. But no, this wasn’t about her—this was about Anders.  
  
“Anders is the same as you and the same as me: Anders deserves love, kindness and understanding.”  
  
Sebastian heard Hawke’s words and they were a cold slap to the way her eyes and touch burned through him. Oh, she was right—Hawke deserved love, and so much more. More than Anders could ever offer her.  
  
Hawke felt Sebastian withdrawing from her though his body did not move an inch.

She tried to reach him again: “Have you ever seen a mage who suffered through the Rite? The difference between the person they once were and the automaton that replaced that individual soul?” Hawke forced herself to stay facing Sebastian for a moment until she felt the words haunting her mind beating against her eyes, and eating at her: All the color, all the music in the world gone...never be whole…  
  
Sebastian watched Hawke release him and turned her head away as the tears that made her sad eyes shine so brightly broke through—he only got to see one tear fall and she had turned from him.  
  
“Meredith would be merciful to kill a mage instead of forcing the Rite upon them.” Hawke whispered as she pushed herself to her feet; as if in doing so, she could push the feeling of disgust at the tremble in her lip and crack in her voice away.  
  
“Hawke—don’t say such things.” Sebastian knew that she truly believed death was better than being made Tranquil. But there had to be another way to reach her. “It is more merciful to let one live without danger to themselves or others.”  
  
Sebastian stood and closed the distance between him and Hawke. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Hawke kept her head down and turned away from him—not wanting to face the earnestness she was sure was written across his handsome face.  
  
Hawke smirked inwardly with her thoughts—and grew angry; even with such betrayal he was suggesting, she found him handsome.  
  
“Hawke, look at me.” Sebastian’s voice became stern. “I know you understand how dangerous Anders is to others and to you.”  
  
Her soul should belong to no one but the Maker, but still, Sebastian felt the desire to take Anders place and hold that most precious sacred part of Hawke in his hands. He knew it was a sin against the Maker to desire and hold such a place—but that did not stop the burn of want that was still flowing through Sebastian’s veins.  
  
Sebastian clasped Hawke’s chin within his fingers. Still, she would not look up at him. He turned her head towards him, raising her chin so that Hawke was forced to look up at him.  
  
Sebastian released Hawke’s chin only to cup her head within his hands; his thumbs rubbing the apples of her cheeks. Sebastian felt Hawke’s dark lashes fluttered against the feel of his hands on her flesh. Jealousy and anger constricted his heart like twin snakes at her refusal to obey his unspoken demands, to open herself to him.  
  
There in the Chantry, Sebastian began to lose himself to those twin serpents; if only he could kiss her, let his lips take her and tell her all he would do for her—actions speaking words that a Brother could never say.  
  
Sebastian felt Hawke’s body tense as he held her face in his hands. There was a closeness between them, some connection holding them together even though he knew her body was readying to run, to push him away and go. Still, he felt a need for her—a need to protect and a need to have. Looking down at her, he saw her eyes flutter open and look at him. Those dark brown eyes swirled with emotions: despair, sadness, want and anger. Her hands reached up to grasp Sebastian’s wrists, pulling his hands away from her face as she drew away from him. Sebastian was tempted to keep her in place, to keep his hands clasped tightly around his prize, but her dark eyes began to shine with a deadly anger that he knew it would be fruitless to try anything.  
  
Sebastian released Hawke, almost staggering back from the amount of strength it took to let go—it was almost as if his body and mind were pulsing with pain. He released a painful groan, and the realization of what he had done throbbed with each pulse of pain. Sebastian only then began to realize the gravity of what he had done—and still he did not understand it to its full extent.  
  
He had forgotten himself before the Maker, given in to jealous passionate desires that he never should have harbored in the first place. Now as his reward and punishment, Hawke stood before him revealing herself through those dark stormy eyes: concern, anger and betrayal roiled beneath the chocolate surface, illuminating the dark orbs with such a flame it could only be described as sinisterly beautiful. The vulnerable woman that dwelled beneath would never be his, and as proof of his sin against her and against the Maker, Sebastian saw his blood drip  not only on his white armor but also on the floor of the Chantry—staining the purity of it all that Sebastian held so deeply in his memory.  
  
Hawke stared back at Sebastian—worried that she had hurt him more than intended. She  merely wanted to escape his grasp, to make him stop. Hawke’s posture corrected itself, forcing her to stand tall with anger. The emotions she had tried so hard to hold in check began to crash down on her, and she felt her chest constrict, her breathing growing labored. She had to escape.  
  
Hawke turned to leave, but turned again and walked over to Sebastian. An apology was buried in her throat, but instead she pierced his eyes with hers and gave him a warning: “Be careful in what you do: sometimes the purist act can bear the darkest stain.”  



	40. Reconciliation, Solace and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline delivers news that causes Hawke to seek solace in what she finds in the Chantry.

It had been a little more than a week, and there was still no word from Anders. Kitty sat in her study attempting to distract herself with writing letters, but finding herself staring into the fire and idly doodling on the parchment. Looking down she winced at what she had mindlessly drawn, then crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire—she would leave no evidence or trail of her mindless schoolgirl doodles: hearts surrounding Anders name, Kitty and the Warden—her own mind disgusted itself in its hopefulness.

  
There was knock on the door and Kitty felt herself jump; she looked up from her seat and saw Aveline leaning against the doorway to the study. Catalina gave Aveline a smile that soon fell when she noticed the crumpled brow Aveline was wearing.

  
“What is it?” Catalina asked as she stood and began to walk towards Aveline.

  
“You should probably stay sitting down.” Aveline held her arm out, attempting to stop Catalina from more movement.

  
Kitty felt the color leave her face and a grip of cold creep up her skin. Her thoughts quickly took check of her fears: Aveline was before her, so she was safe; Fenris, Isabela, Merrill and Varric were at The Hanged Man—she had left them there only thirty minutes ago; Sebastian would be tucked away in the Chantry with Grand Cleric Elthina, Mother was in bed; Bodahn, Sandal and Orana were in their quarters—Orana had come and checked on her not fifteen minutes ago before heading to bed. Two possibilities: something happened to Bethany or---the room started to sway a little as Kitty finished her thought: or something has happened to Anders.

  
Aveline watched as she saw Catalina catalogued the whereabouts of her friends and family and saw exactly when her mind focused on Bethany, and then the extreme loss of color as her mind finally pinpointed on Anders.

  
Catalina gripped the back of the chair she had been sitting in, closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. Opening her eyes and tightening her jaw, she motioned to Aveline to follow her to her bedroom. There she began to put on her leathers and armor as she asked Aveline to tell her everything.

  
Anders has gone missing. All this time, she thought that maybe he was ignoring her; trying to make her believe he didn’t care, to make her see that he was dangerous. But no, he had been missing all these days and she didn’t know because she was too cowardly to stop and visit the clinic.

  
Aveline gave Catalina a quick but full report. Shortly after searching for evidence of the Tranquil Solution, Anders had given notice to Lirene that he would be gone for two days at most on a simple herb gathering mission. He left her supplies and simple instructions on salves and ointments.  After three days, Lirene had her network in action, keeping eyes and ears open. Five, and somehow Isabela “found” out and then asked Aveline if she had heard anything. Aveline pored over the reports of apostates caught and taken to the Circle—she found nothing.   
They wanted to wait a little longer before telling Catalina anything—so here it was, seven days and only now was Catalina being informed in the dead of night that Anders, an ex-Grey Warden, apostate and “host” had gone missing.

  
Kitty finished donning her armor and looked at Aveline accusingly as she pulled a hood instead of helm over her head, “Why?”

  
Aveline didn’t try to act like she didn’t understand Kitty’s question. Instead, she crossed her arms and shook her head slightly, “We hoped he’d reappear and you wouldn’t have to know.”

Aveline held her hand up to prevent Kitty from asking the next question. “We didn’t want you to know because of several reasons; one being your fights with Anders and Sebastian—if you didn’t want us knowing you shouldn’t have talked to Isabela. Two, we wanted to see if we could find out anything before you took off swinging at whatever direction you could think of—“

  
“And did you?” Catalina asked as she grabbed her sword.

  
“Only that he was last seen around his clinic on the afternoon he told Lirene that he was going on his trip.”

  
“Then I’ll start there.” Catalina stated with a hard tone as she walked past Aveline and made her way to the bottom of the stairs.

  
“I’ll go with you.”

  
“No you won’t.” Catalina turned and directed towards Aveline. There was an edge to her voice; Aveline couldn’t determine if it was anger or sadness—it was a mix of determination and tears.

  
Catalina spoke with unquestionable authority, giving orders rather than asking. “I’ll go looking myself—take care of Mother and everyone while we’re gone.” Catalina patted her thigh and Havoc seemed to appear out of nowhere beside her.

  
“If you haven’t heard from me in two days, then look for me on the coast.” With that, Catalina turned to leave Aveline. Aveline was a little shocked but did not follow when Catalina did not go to the door, but rather the basement.  
  


 

  
“Seven fucking days. They know I care about Anders, and they don’t say a word to me about him missing for seven fucking days.” Kitty growled the words low in her throat, that anyone who heard her would have mistaken the noise as coming from Havoc.

  
Kitty made her way through the cellar, descending further and further down until she was at the door that led to Darktown, and was right beside Anders’ clinic. She knew that in her present state, she would do no good: she was running off of anger tinted with despair which made her thoughts muddled. If her thoughts were muddled, she could be caught off guard or could she waste time that would be better maximized looking for Anders.

  
Kitty slumped to the floor with her back against the door, pulling her knees up to her chest. Havoc sat with her, as she scratched behind his ears. She decided to think about the worst thing she could think of: the Templars finding Anders and making him Tranquil, Anders and Justice being overcome by demons and turned into an abomination, and finally, just the idea that Anders simply left. She let her head fall back and hit the door as she gave that thought full voice: Anders simply left her.

  
Havoc seemed to sense his mistress’ discomfort and laid his head in support onto her shoulder; the mabari’s size amplified by Catalina’s own petite size being curled even smaller. The walls seemed to be closing in on her and Catalina wasn’t sure what to do. She forced herself to her feet and followed them wherever they took her—her mind having decided to go numb at the idea that all she had worked for was simply tossed to the side. Hurtful words from a memory she thought forgiven haunted her: you were never an option, pretty plaything…  
  
Havoc did not leave his mistress’ side; instead he went with her and almost led her to the Chantry. It was a place where he knew his mistress would be safe. Almost as if he were summoned by the watchful and caring mabari, Sebastian appeared as Kitty collapsed at the feet of the figure of Andraste.  
  
“Hawke?” Sebastian called out to the hunched figure in the darkened candlelight. He saw only slight movement and thought he heard a small cry in the dark.  
  
“Catalina? Are you alright?” Sebastian took hurried steps to Hawke’s side, as he recognized Havoc standing guard over the figure heaped onto the floor of the chantry.  
  
“Cat, what’s wrong?” Sebastian knelt beside Catalina, reaching out and moving the hood from her face. Concern flooded his blue eyes as he say the torment on her face and made out her muffled words: “plaything,” “failed,” and finally—“What am I going to do?”   
  
Sebastian felt his face fall at her words. He sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her; he said nothing but just held her as he felt her body tremble. Finally, as Sebastian held her, Catalina removed her gauntlets and dried her eyes. She wrapped her fingers with Sebastian's and turned and looked at him in the dim candlelight.  
  
“Thank you.” Catalina stared into Sebastian’s eyes and saw nothing but love and concern.   
  
Sebastian felt his hand begin to burn from the heat of Catalina’s fingers. She was here for comfort yet her smallest and innocent gesture endangered him by threatening to engulf him in flames. Still, he would not pull away from her heat, not when she needed him and opened herself up to him so easily and willingly.  
  
“Talk to me, Hawke. How can I help?”  
  
“He’s missing. Did you know?” Catalina turned her head and looked at Sebastian quizzically. Sebastian answered truthfully and shook his head.   
  
“No. I’m your friend, Hawke. But a lot of our companions try not to include Anders and I in the same conversations.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. He raised their clasped hands to his lips and brushed his against the back of her hand. She gave him a small smile as a reward to his gesture.  
  
“I don’t know what to do. What if he doesn’t want me to find him?” Catalina kept her hand in Sebastian’s but turned, her eyes beginning to crawl their way to the face of Andraste.  
  
Sebastian was tempted to let her go, but enjoyed her warmth too much. She would be his undoing if he wasn’t careful; she had already undone so much. And just like him, he knew that Anders would not leave Catalina Hawke so easily.  
  
“That fight we had so long ago—it made it seem like he could…that he would.” It was almost as if Kitty’s voice tumbled over the edge into an inner oblivion.  
  
“Oh Hawke…” Sebastian let go of Catalina’s hand, but did not release his other arm from holding her against him. She seemed to melt into his side as he rubbed his hand up and down her side. He had her in his arms, and all she could do was talk of another and he felt like a fool—not because of her speaking of Anders but because this despair she was sinking into was a result of his own actions.  
  
“Maybe you were right, Sebastian. Anders was always worried he would hurt someone; what if he decided to leave before he could hurt anyone? Before he could physically hurt me?” Catalina turned and looked at Sebastian with tears in her eyes; the wet curtain of unshed tears making her dark eyes burn bright in the dim light.  
  
Sebastian tightened his hold on Hawke. Should he confess that he went and spoke to Anders after she refused his request of handing Anders over to the Templars? It was a stupid thing to do; he knew she would be upset if Anders had left but he didn’t think Anders would do something so unthoughtfully. And now, here was Hawke crying in the Chantry in the middle of the night.  
  
“No. He wouldn’t leave you without saying goodbye.” Sebastian cupped Catalina’s cheek in his hand.   
  
He peered into her seemingly glowing eyes, silently cursing himself for pushing it too far—for pushing her. He never should have mentioned Anders being given to the Templars. It was a stupid thing done out of fear for her—  
  
“Of course Anders would never hurt you.” Sebastian forced himself to smile, but felt it become genuine as he saw the flicker of hope return to Catalina’s face.   
  
Catalina reached up and placed her hand over Sebastian’s, leaning her cheek further into his hand. “I know you worry about me, but I’m a big girl I can--”  
  
“I know you can take care of yourself, Catalina.” Sebastian peered down into her face lovingly, “That doesn’t mean that I won’t worry. I—“ Sebastian looked away, letting his hand fall and biting back words on the tip of his tongue.  
  
“Sebastian, I—“  
  
Sebastian forced himself to look at Catalina and she leaned towards him her eyes focused on his face. She leaned forward, and then reached up gingerly touching the bridge of his nose where there was a small wound. Kitty grasped Sebastian’s face between her palms and pulled him forward, towards her. She gingerly lifted her lips and kissed the damage she had done.   
  
“You owe me nothing, Hawke. I was out of line. You deserved to be courted…”  
  
Hawke felt the hot bloom of color tint her cheeks and the heat seemed to knock her back. She withdrew from Sebastian, and looked around the darken Chantry. Reality began to set in as she realized that she was no longer panicked but she was still worried—Anders was gone and she needed to find him, to make sure he was safe and to make sure the he didn’t leave because of her.  
  
Sebastian felt the cold sink into Hawke’s place—her burning embers no longer warming his flesh. He looked at her, and saw that her mind had regained focus on Anders. Sebastian wanted to shake Hawke, to make her see what she had in front of her if she would only reach out and take it. In exasperation, he leaned back on his palms and his face rose to Andraste and he realized that even if Hawke did reach out for him, he could not respond to her the way his body and mind wanted to. No, he was already promised to another by his own admission and free will.   
  
Sebastian closed his eyes and resigned himself to his original promise: he would take care of Catalina Hawke even if it pained him. She was his temptation; he knew to give in would mean damnation but he was not so much a saint that he would turn away completely. Instead, he would live in a masochistic false martyrdom—around her, hearing her, drinking in her perfume like a heady incense but never truly partaking of her, leaving that to another—one that would ultimately hurt her but he could do nothing to stop.  
  
With a painful resignation, Sebastian stood and held his palms out in offering to Catalina. She placed her hands in his, gingerly. He pulled her to her feet with little force, but still she lost balance and fell into him. His arms wrapped around her in protection, and she responded in kind. He held her in that accidental embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he breathed in the scent of her hair. Maker help him, he would not last if she ever thought to ask things of him.  
  
Swallowing the temptation forming within, Sebastian pushed Catalina away just enough—enough to make her look at him and with a small smile, Sebastian, pulled Catalina’s hood back over her hair and began walking her to the Chantry doors. “His clinic, you know he’d never abandon his place of healing without some kind of warning or sign…”  
  
Havoc gave a small bark in agreement, having been following behind them. Sebastian felt Catalina jump from Havoc’s bark, and he smiled at her. She returned his smile and before leaving, gave him a hug then quickly left back for the estate.  
  
Of course she needed to visit the clinic; that is what she had originally set out to do but she needed comfort. Kitty wasn’t sure how she had ended up at the Chantry and with Sebastian, but in the end it had helped her and to her, right now, that is what mattered. Feeling a little stronger, Kitty entered the estate with a bit more strength in her step and a steadier mind. She needed to change her armor—she needed something akin to rogue armor but sturdier. Kitty felt that she had let Anders down by not checking on him, and so she wasn’t going to let him down again by not being prepared.  
  
She crept back upstairs hoping to escape Aveline’s notice. Aveline did notice Hawke but said nothing—she knew Catalina enough that to call attention to her would only stir her already piqued ire. Kitty entered her bedroom and went through her armor chest. She dug out a piece of armor she hadn’t worn in a long time—light chainmail mixed with pieces of leather. The armor was not as maneuverable as a rogue’s typical leather pieces, but it wouldn’t hinder her like plate armor. Kitty pulled her hair into pigtails; she had suffered the pain of hair caught in chain on numerous occasions when she first began training in mail. She continued to don her chain armor over her cotton tunic and tights as she started to form a plan on how to search for Anders.  
  
Kitty again thought about Anders’ clinic; if he wasn’t there then maybe there would be some kind of clue as to where he would have gone. She armed herself with three or four daggers as well as a greatsword; she did not want to be caught off guard. Kitty went downstairs and said a few words to Aveline about her plan. She left Havoc at home, planning on returning after checking the clinic. Donning her hood and putting on her leather gloves, she left in search of Anders.  
  



	41. Of Dark Tunnels and Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty finds Anders.

Things have gone horribly wrong, Anders felt lost—he wasn’t confused. The mental forest stood true with shafts of light illuminating the many trails available—all to the same goal. No, there was no confusion just an overwhelming feeling of being lost—which path to take, which scene to notice, whether to notice anything at all. He had thought that merging with a Virtue would lead to freedom quicker than being a single man. The man was lost, the Virtue tainted and freedom a simulacrum.  
  
Was it the sin of magic or the weakness of man mocking his very being? Anders called out and heard nothing—no sound, no echo of Justice bouncing between the trees. He had called out and heard nothing from within but there was stirring in his clinic.   
  
He was willingly jumping into the abyss of broken despair when a figure appeared breaking into the sanctum that was his clinic; breaking into the unholy hold of nothing that had taken ahold of him.  
  
Catalina was enveloped by a light; such a bright light covering her in shades of electric blue. She felt her skin begin to prickle under the veil of light—electricity beginning to flow through her. Her instinct was to panic, but her father’s lessons rang clear—magic can be mental. Catalina focused her thinking, her mind fighting the unknown power as it tried to consume her.   
  
She focused on moving her arms—willing her muscles to respond. She felt pins and needles stinging her, their bite amplified as the electric power pulsed through her with each surge. She wanted to cry out in pain, but she had no voice. Catalina’s only hope was to move.   
  
It was with pleasure that he loomed over the intruder, letting power break free and pull the weak mind into the primal undertow of anger and vengeance. It excited him that the mind was fighting back, letting him pour more of his anger into each electric pulse. Sinister delight flooded his veins as he could feel the feedback of the pain he was causing—the surge of the mind trying to force movement, feeding their lustful absorption of pain.  
  
Kitty cried out in her mind as her arms began to respond. Even though the pain brought pops of colors before her eyes, she was able to bring her arms up—a barrier between her and the sinister light consuming her. She knew it was a feeble move against magic, but something within told her it was the right one. Catalina hoped instinct was correct as the largest surge of biting power enveloped her. The seduction of the hideously beautiful dark creeping over her mind from the pain became broken with a different piercing light emanating from her wrist. A calming fog broke over her, washing the pulsing pain away; it was a missing nothingness that caused her to collapse to the floor.  
  
All feeling was lost when he recognized the token they had given Kitty--the Fade woven chain breaking the anger and vengeance. Anders felt the weight of many stones compressing his chest as he realized the cruelty he just inflicted on Kitty. When she collapsed to the floor, he scooped her into his arms—concern flooding him with strength allowing his starved form the ability to hold and move the armored Kitty with ease. They placed her on a cot, and immediately began to flood her with healing magic.   
  
  
They gave her everything he had to give—he was weak, but he would willingly pour the last of his life into healing her. They moved through the dark. A brief thought of cold flittered through its mind sending shivers down his spine like the kiss of an icy butterfly. He went and pulled several blankets from his unused bed and covered Kitty as she slumbered. He moved through the dark, his mind seeing the space with clarity. Finally, Anders sat down, back in the shadows. The darkness robing him, hiding his broken posture as he sat through self-imposed penance of reliving his most painful sins—   
  
This was the second time he had lost control and Kitty was a common factor. Anders covered his face with his hands as he sat thinking back on the previous weeks—back when he still felt like he would never willingly harm Kitty.  
  
Catalina had returned to the clinic that night with Isabela and Sebastian in tow. He had had reservations about taking Sebastian along, but Catalina convinced him otherwise: another perspective on what they found—someone people couldn’t claim had something to gain from the discovery of a “solution.”  
  
Kitty had stayed by his side through the tunnels; her glances and smiles helping to ease the tension building in his muscles as they drew closer and closer to the circle. He had started to feel something different with her by his side, it wasn’t just anger but there was a small seed of hope that her presence offered him—but then they found Ser Alrik.  
  
Templars have their place—not all are abusive, and their order was created with purpose. But then there are Templars like Ser Alrik. They had come across Alrik as he had cornered a poor girl—and the other Templars were doing nothing to stop him.  
  
Kitty had entered the small cavern and stopped short, Anders had nearly crashed into her. There was a young girl, surrounded by Templars—she was so young and only wanted to see her family.  
  
“No please I haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to see my mom. No one ever told her where they were taking me.” It was the same story for so many mages—to have magic was to make you alone in this world; at least that’s what Templars like Alrik wanted you to believe.  
  
“That’s a lie. What do we do to mages who lie?” Alrik stood cornering the poor girl, his posture arrogant and sure. Justice demanded action, but Anders knew that for right now, the Templars—even Alrik—were merely doing their duties.   
  
Kitty had turned and looked at him, so many emotions written across her beautiful face: concern, anger, worry. Anders skin began to burn with Justice’s anger and he tried to control Justice, tried to control himself: “No. No, this is their place. We cannot—“  
  
Then, then Alrik’s words pierced through the barrier of control that Anders had begun forming around his emotions.   
  
“So, you admit your attempted escape. You know what happens to mage girls who don’t tow the line around here, don’t you.” There was a sinister edge to Alrik’s voice. Ser Alrik delivered the line with such cold practiced calculation it made Anders sick, and he could see Kitty’s muscles jerk and tense at Alrik’s voice.   
  
“Please, no. Don’t make me Tranquil. I’ll do anything,” the young mage begged as she fell to her knees.   
  
“That’s right. Once you’re Tranquil you’ll do anything I ask.” Those words and that voice broke through all control. Anders no longer saw just a young mage being preyed upon; no, when he again looked at her he saw a young Kitty begging for her sister’s safety.  
  
But Kitty was at his side, anger and outrage making her face like steel as she confronted Alrik with a simple question, “What are you doing to that girl?”  
  
It was too much, anger tossed the coin and Justice and Vengeance twined through the air breaking free: “You fiends will never touch a mage again.”  
  
Anders was trapped, unable to control his own body. He sat watching helplessly as magic and power surged through him as Kitty and the others fought at his side. They would save the girl and they did. But Vengeance is never satisfied.  
  
“They will die. I will have every last Templar for these abuses.”  
  
Kitty looked at Anders, his body still burning blue—but this blue was cold, and deadly not the usual intense flash of electric heat. She wouldn’t lose Anders not without a fight. “It’s over, Anders. They’re all dead.” Still, he was not satisfied; she gave in to her own anger as she bit out the words, “We’ll kill them all; I promise.”  
  
“Every one of them will feel Justice’s burn.” The power fueled by anger and injustice breaking through, coursing and controlling Anders seemed to be dying returning Anders to himself. It would have been okay, but Anders and Kitty weren’t the only ones there.  
  
“Get away from me, demon!” The young mage had been warned of what could happen if they were taken over. She was being schooled in Chantry doctrine and knew the idea of fear. She would not be taken; she would not be a danger to others.  
  
“I am no demon. Are you one of them; that you would call me such?” The flames of justice and vengeance flared anew at the poor girl’s accusation as he turned and loomed over her.  
  
Raw emotion was driving them, and Kitty knew anger, fear and shame could be some of the most powerful emotions to mortals; she was afraid of what terrifying power they could give a spirit. Kitty stepped forward, reaching for Justice, hoping to stay their hand, to reach the only one who could take full control: “Anders! That girl is mage. We rescued her from being made Tranquil.”  
  
They looked at the young girl, her fear equaling the same she showed surrounded by Templars. Mages shouldn’t be afraid of each other. “She is theirs. I can feel their hold on her.”  
  
Kitty placed herself between the young girl and Justice, with such power she knew it was fruitless but she would shield the girl in any way she could. “She’s the reason you’re fighting, Anders.” Kitty stared into the eyes of the being before her, hoping to reach the man inside. “Don’t turn on her now.”  
  
Anders heard a small voice coming from behind Kitty, matching the plea in Kitty’s eyes. “Please, messier.”  
  
He saw two girls, Kitty and a young mage before him. The young girl was cowering behind Kitty as she stood between the girl and the danger threatening her. Cold reality overtook him as he realized that Kitty was facing him, calling to him through the overtaking power that had darkened him making him the danger.  
  
“Maker no! I almost—if you weren’t here…I—I need to get out of here.”   
  
He fled, unable to handle the idea of having broken—of nearly killing a poor innocent girl. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t Anders the man in control at the time, the fact remained that he was the cause for concern.  
  
Kitty had saved the young girl again from a greater danger—a mage no longer in control of his ability: a mage who had now inflicted a great amount of damage upon her almost killing Kitty.  
  
Anders turned and looked at Catalina. She seemed so peaceful, so innocent even in her worn armor. He had only taken off the hood covering her head after he had recognized her and needed to heal what he had harmed. Even in his brooding mood he had to smile as he noticed that she had her long dark hair pulled into pigtails. It added to her air of innocence.   
  
That bastard had been right. Anders covered his face with his hands. Sebastian had been right. A couple of nights after their sojourn into the tunnels, Sebastian had stopped at the clinic. Anders had been surprised, but then saw that he had a small wound across his nose—he had thought that was the reason behind Sebastian’s visit. But no, Sebastian didn’t want it healed, mumbling something about a reminder of control.  
  
No, Sebastian had come to him to talk about Kitty. He had said that Anders was a danger—to people around him, to people seeking his aid and he was a great danger to Kitty. “What if you’re with her and lose control again? Can you guarantee that the thing you become would not harm her?” Anders had thought that the Chantry dog was simply jealous—he saw how Sebastian watched Kitty and glared at him whenever he got Kitty’s affection. Now he knew that Sebastian was merely telling the truth.  
  
Anders stood and laughed at himself. No, Sebastian wasn’t jealous but showing that he cared for Kitty—cared so much that he would face Anders and make Anders face himself. Anders didn’t want to face the truth that he was a greater danger to mages and everyone than he cared to admit. Anders at first dismissed Sebastian’s words, but after thinking on them for a night, he decided that Sebastian was right. He would leave as he had first planned, before Kitty had walked in and convinced him otherwise.  
  
But he didn’t want to go—no matter where he went, he would be a danger. He could turn himself in to the Circle. He had gone so far as to arrange a meeting with some Templars but did not meet with them after all—Isabela had stopped him: “Think of what will happen to you, think of what that would do to her.”   
  
Anders then decided to sequester himself—lock himself in the clinic until he faded away into nothingness and Justice would be free and Kitty would be safe. He stood and walked over to where Kitty lay. Anders stared down at her, all of sudden she seemed too small, so vulnerable and he felt like such a bastard. Anders nodded to himself. He would leave. Now. He would stop at The Hanged Man and tell Isabela to take care of Kitty in the clinic and then he would disappear.  
  
She had a brief moment of awareness, her eyes opened to a figure towering above her. She reached up with her hand to caress the face in the cold and terrible dark. Her lips formed his name followed by a small smile as her mind retreated and her arms collapsed across her chest.  
  
They stared down at Kitty—shock overtaking their senses. He had made the decision to leave her, but then she stirred and reached for him in the dark. Even after surviving the damage he had inflicted upon her, she reached for him.  
  
Kitty Hawke was his light. She seemed to appear at his darkest moments: feeling alone and worried about Karl, needing a companion and partner in facing Templars, and when he felt lost she appeared in his clinic yet again. Anders held the soft caress she had given him in her stupor as evidence that she was his answer. Even through the darkness, even when he threatened to snuff it out she sought to shine for him.   
  
As always, his battle lied in whether he damningly accepted this revelation; or sought redemption by denying everything and keeping away from her.  
  



	42. Blood and Offerings

Anders sat in the dark, arguing with himself about the best course of action. Even with prodding, he got no response from Justice. When Justice did speak, it was only to draw Anders out of his disagreeing stupor and force him to pay attention to Kitty. She lay on the cot and her body seemed to tremble; a low man of pain escaped her lips and Anders quickly crossed the small distance between them. He grabbed Kitty’s hand, feeling her wrist wanting to feel her strong steady pulse. Anders felt what little color he had drain; he would lose her if he didn’t act soon. He concentrated, drawing on what power he had but he knew it was not enough. He had let himself get too weak—he had intentionally done so. Then, with the intrusion, misguided Justice—Vengeance—amplified what weak power he had had weakening them even more. Anders began cursing himself as he realized that all the hatred and anger he poured into harming her was going to keep him from saving her. He balled his hands into tight fists, his knuckles becoming a deathly white as his fingernails bit deeply into his palms. The sting of pain radiating from his palm made Anders think of one last option—blood magic. Instantly, Justice exerted himself and fought Anders for control.  
  
 _It is the only way. I won’t let her die—not because of me._   
Healing her in this way is too great a cost.  
 _No! Nothing is too great—she was her looking for me. She is hurt because of me—she has to live!_  
Some cannot be—  
 _Shut up! Don’t—don’t say it. I will save her no matter the price to be paid._  
  
Voices of demons began to creep into Anders’ mind at his words. The voice of Justice would soon be covered and drowned by the tidal wave of sinister promises.  
  
We can save her…a simple promise…a simple price..  
  
No one touches her! The deep gravel rough timbre reverberated through the sickening chaotic silence.  
  
Spirits, shades and demons halted at the brink—a mere invitations breadth, a slight word needed for the threshold to be crossed.  
  
You will listen. Justice growled and a shiver ran down Anders’ spine as the unnatural light of the Fade permeated through him. Justice felt Anders’ panic over Kitty, and tightened his controlled hold—fighting for Anders and himself. He blocked his thoughts from Anders’ thoughts, attempting to form a barrier.  
  
Ever since merging with Anders he had to watch and adjust—they never considered how mortal emotions would affect and influence one from the Fade. Panic and fear fed Justice the same as anger—a potent serum transforming a balanced scale into a vigilante’s noose; Justice into Vengeance.  
  
Justice worked against the stupor that Anders emotions were working to put him under, struggling to order a chaotic mind.

Listen to me. There is another way  
  
 _Then do it—_  
You must do it. Recant your what few words you’ve said and I will aid you in what ways I can.  
  
Dark laughs echoed through Anders’ mind as those at the threshold mocked them both, Anders and Justice.  
  
 _Fine, I will save her myself without help from demons._  
  
Careful of your words—deals for power can be made with more than demons and still have the same outcome. The whispered warning felt like a hot burn lacing through his arms.  
  
 _I will save her._  
  
Quiet took over the chaos the demons had brought with them. Justice released his grip and let his thoughts become Anders’ thoughts, slowly relinquishing the barrier he had thrown up against the panic.  
  
You can heal her but it will cost you.  
  
 _Anything. I told you, anything._  
  
Think on your words—I do not know the true affect it will have.  
  
 _Tell me._  
  
Draw power and heal her as you would a simple wound.  
  
 _This isn’t helping. I’m too weak to draw reliably from the Fade._  
  
You will draw from a greater power—  
  
 _My existence_  
  
Anders closed his eyes—  
  
This magic can not be used often because of its cost. There would be no blood drawn, no sacrifice from others It is different from blood magic—though just as dangerous and forbidden.  
  
 _It has to be done willingly—it is an offering, a gift._  
  
If she does not want it or accept it, you cannot take it back it will be lost and she will be   
  
_Dead._  
  
Justice and Anders looked down on Kitty, their eyes seeing her life weeping from her body. Their exchange had taken only seconds, but both knew it was precious seconds that were lost.  
Anders began concentrating, pulling deep from within himself, drawing and gathering everything he had to give. Justice sought to control the emotion feeding Anders’ strength—pulling fond memories of Kitty forward so that their actions were fueled by caring and love.  
  
No contact needed to be made, but Anders’ ran his hands over Catalina’s body, pouring everything he had to offer into her. Her body began to convulse and terror gripped Anders’ heart. Justice pulled memories of Kitty’s touch—the softness of her fingers on their cheek, the way she would sneakily wrap a finger around theirs, the feeling of her weight on them as she shook their shoulders after having attacked them and the feel of her lips brush so lightly and quickly against theirs—  
  
Determination replaced terror as Anders offered all that he had to give—he would save her if she let him. He prayed that she would take him, take his offering and live. Anders collapsed to his knees as he felt life leave his body. He rested his head in a silent plea against her abdomen, his arm crossing her body so that he could hold her wrists in each of his hands. She felt so cold—she didn’t want anything to do with him, he was sure of it.  
  
Time was harsh—seeming to crawl, then speed by, then stop; the confusion of its passing disorienting Anders and threatened to overwhelm Justice even though it was only mere minutes that had passed by. There was no movement from Kitty, and despair occupied the room—so heavy that it seemed to drown out the dark and give a sick shine of its own.   
  
Justice waited in silence. He did not know if such an ancient magic would work; not with them. Anders was no mere mortal—he contained the taint of Darkspawn which gave him the title of Warden, and he harbored Justice—a spirit of the Fade, which earned him the title of abomination with many. Both of these would affect what they could offer Kitty for her survival. Justice was unsure if she could handle what power he gave that had mingled with Anders’ offering, or if her body would reject that traces of the taint that laced the offering.  
  
Anders lay against Kitty, his hands holding her wrists promises from his lips—his voice so soft it was as if he were saying nothing at all. If she lived, he wouldn’t leave. She came to make sure he was safe, he was sure of it; she came because she was afraid he had left her, he hoped. If she lived he would stay with her as long as she wanted him. Inside, both Justice and Anders knew what he promised was a lie, no matter how comforting or sweet the sentiment that it held. Still, the words poured from his lips as the dark began to grip them—both Justice and Anders too weak to fight anymore.  
  



	43. Merciful Wants

Kitty gave a groan as she felt the numb pain stiffen her muscles. Where was she? She remembered pain, fighting against a blinding light, and then Anders--Anders was over her and she reached for him. Kitty’s eyes popped open at the memory, and the little light that was in the clinic caused her to wince and start a pounding in her head.  
  
She clamped her eyes shut and felt a weight on her abdomen, and fingers around her wrists. She tried to move a little, not even sure her body gave the small squirm she had told it to make. She opened her eyes and concentrated on moving. She knew she wasn’t bound, there was just someone there—holding her. She turned her head to the side and saw Anders there at her bedside. Her mind began churning as she took in the picture of how they were—her on a patient’s cot and Anders collapsed at her side. She easily shook off his hands, and they fell clumsily onto the cot and floor. She ran her fingers through Anders’ hair as she tried to whisper his name. She struggled to swallow the dryness in her mouth—her throat feeling like rough and raw cotton.   
  
Kitty opened her mouth and gave a hoarse whisper, Anders’ name crossing her lips. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he had made some kind of noise in response. She waited, as her fingers continued to run through his strands. The seconds of waiting seemed like hours and she was determined to get up and see about Anders, to get him to respond to her.  
  
Her fingers became rough as she began to inch herself out from under him—enough so she could sit up. Each movement seemed like a struggle, but she managed to achieve her goal even with the room threatening to spin. She closed her eyes long enough to make the room behave and then opened them slowly as she looked down at Anders. She felt the emotions hit her all at once: joy, anger, pain, concern and heartbreak.   
  
His blonde strands were dirty as they attempted to cover his face from her eyes. She pushed them aside gingerly and saw that his face was a sick white and there was gauntness to his features. She felt tears come to her eyes as she was reminded of death as he lay so still with his eyes closed.  
  
The dark had turned into unclear whispers and the whispers soon became words to Anders and Justice. They heard Anders name being called into their darkness, the voice acting like a beacon towards a way out.  Soon, they realized the voice not only called to Anders, but also call to Justice. They began to slowly work their way through the dark, and soon recognized her voice and their steps turned into quick and eager strides.  
  
Anders jerked out of the dark and found himself laying with his cheek on Kitty’s thighs. His slight jump caused Kitty to call out in relief as she realized he wasn’t dead—just incredibly weak. Anders turned his head slightly and looked as her, as she looked down on him with sad relief.   
  
“You’re alive.” Anders whispered the words with a hoarse holiness as a small smile attempted to cross his lips.  
  
 _She’s alive._  
She’s alive.  
  
She accepted what you offered.  
 _She accepted us._  
  
The words Anders had mumbled were simple, yet Kitty knew they were deceptively so. To her, they were rich and full of meaning—and their gravity made Kitty uncannily aware of what had been done. What he did, what Anders, what Justice did to keep her alive, to keep her safe.  
  
Kitty felt the ache and stiffness of her muscles but knew that she did not have the luxury of staying. Anders had saved her and she would return the favor—even if the intent was selfish. She was afraid to lose him and would make every effort she had to have him stay—even battle with a death he made for himself. She gently shook Anders, afraid to be rough with him but knowing that they had to move, she had to get him home so they could be looked after. Anders looked at her sleepily, and felt Kitty caress his cheek.  
  
“Get up, Warden. Time to go home.”  
  
“I am home, love.”  
  
She gave a small smile as her heart swelled at the term, “love.” Her mind told her to not believe it—that he wasn’t himself being so weak, but her heart told her to draw strength from the endearment that had escaped his lips.  
  
Kitty worked to get herself off of the cot without harming Anders. After some time, she finally stood shakily beside him as he sat with his back to the cot’s edge. Kitty didn’t know if they would make it to the estate—she could wait for Aveline, but looking at Anders she knew that waiting would be too much.  
  
“Come on, Warden. Time to get up—you’ve got to come with me.” Kitty grabbed the edges of Anders coat as she threw her weight back, attempting some kind of leverage to make him rise.  
  
Anders was vaguely aware of what Kitty was trying to do as he felt her struggle to pull him to his feet. He knew he needed to help her—she was a strong formidable woman, but she was trying to work against biology and physics.  
  
Somehow, Anders managed to help her get him on his feet. She quickly maneuvered to where she could place his arm on her shoulders, acting as a support for him. She reached back to cover his wrist with her left and, as her right arm snaked around his waist, her right hand holding him close to her.  
  
It was going to be hell on both her and him, but Kitty was determined to get him up the basements stairs and into the estate. She was not going to let him die.  
  



	44. Games

Orana looked up in shock as she recognized Catalina come through the door from the basement into the kitchen. The aroma of a rich soup permeated the air, and Catalina felt Anders rumble. She wondered how long it had been since he had eaten. Orana quickly moved forward to help Catalina bring Anders forward, as Catalina directed them towards a chair at a small table. Anders fell into the seat, his back slumping against the wooden rest. He watched as he saw Catalina say some hurried words to Orana and the young elf leave the kitchen with a flitting quickness.  
  
Catalina moved about the kitchen and retrieved a small mug; she looked over at Anders and gave a sad smile as she found him watching her. She half-filled the mug with broth from the half made soup. Anders watched as she walked towards him, blowing over the hot liquid. She knelt before him and offered the mug to him. He reached for it, and she wrapped her hands over his as she urged the mug carefully to his lips.  
  
Anders felt the warmth from the liquid spread into his hands; he knew that she wanted him to take a sip but he didn’t know if he should.  
  
Kitty saw the doubt dull Anders eyes and she pushed her hands forward, urging him again to take a sip. He looked down at her, and she pleaded with her eyes. Anders looked down into those eyes and felt himself falling into them. She had no idea that she could ask for almost anything with those eyes and he would do everything he could to give it to her. Almost anything. Kitty saw that he was still going to refuse her. She closed her eyes and felt her lip tremble.  
  
“Drink, Anders—please, just a sip.” Kitty heard the edge in her voice and knew that he would hear it too. Hurry Orana, she silently pleaded. She watched Anders and wondered how to get him to drink the broth. Finally, she remembered a game she would play with Bethany when she was sick and refused to eat because she was afraid of it coming back up.  
  
“Play a game with me, Warden.” Kitty smiled at Anders sweetly, wincing inside at the childish tone that was in her voice. Still she hoped that maybe it helped in reaching him, that he would be willing to play such a silly game.  
  
Anders gave a laugh as he heard the girlish tone in Kitty’s voice—it wasn’t just the tone but the full picture. There she was, staring up at him with those dark chocolate eyes, her dark hair in pigtails resting on her shoulders as she asked so sweetly for him to play a game. Anders would have wrapped a pigtail around his finger if his hands were free but Kitty refused to release them from beneath hers.  
  
Kitty felt hope grow stronger when she heard Anders laugh, and then give her a smile as a small sparkle appeared in his eye. The hope and happiness at a chance of getting him to eat made her grin, and it entranced Anders even more.  
  
“Alright, Warden.” She continued to hold on to him but she sunk lower, resting on her ankles as she explained the game to him. “Here’s the rules: we take turns sipping the broth. You take a sip; I take a sip.” He looked down at her wondering what made this a game instead of trick to get him to drink.  
  
“The one who takes the last sip is the winner—“ Kitty felt her mind race as she tried to think of a prize. With Bethany she would promise to play her favorite game, as many times as she wanted for a whole day, or read her favorite book to her for a whole week. But what could she promise Anders?  
  
Anders licked his lips, looking down at Kitty as he whispered, “And what does the winner get? Surely, there’s a prize.”  
  
Kitty smiled brightly at him, happy that he seemed willing to play her silly game. She nodded her head eagerly, hoping that what she could quickly conjure an offering that would be enticing enough: “If I win, then you have to have to come and see me every day for a whole week. And if you win, then I’ll take you fresh baked pastries from Orana every day for a week...” Kitty watched as Anders seemed skeptical at her offer. “…AND I’ll bake you a cake myself, and give you a kiss.” Kitty looked at Anders eagerly, working her bottom lip as she waited for his response to her amended offer.  
  
He smiled at her, knowing that it was all just a game—a trick to get him to drink some broth, but she was trying to be so clever about it. He would have played the game even she there were no prizes, just because she asked but he had wanted to know what she would offer. Anders had to admit, they were tempting stakes—he would win either way. He also had to admit that she definitely tempted him with the offer of a kiss and cake made by Kitty herself; he never imagined her to be a baker.  
  
“Please, Warden—play with me.”  
  
Anders simply nodded his head yes and worked to bring the cup to his lips. Kitty bounced off of her ankles and helped guide his hands and tilt the mug so that he could take a sip easily. She watched him carefully, focusing on his mouth and throat to make sure he actually took some broth and swallowed.  
  
Anders let the warm liquid into his mouth, thankful it had cooled a little while Kitty tried to convince him to play her little game. He felt her tug at the mug, and looked at her as he swallowed the liquid. She had been focusing on his lips, and he knew that she was watching to make sure he actually took in and drank the liquid as opposed to just pressing the mug against his lips.  
  
Kitty saw a drop of broth on Anders bottom lip and smiled with satisfaction: he did take a sip. She felt him push the mug towards her, and knew it was her turn. He kept his eyes locked on her, watching to make sure that she actually took a sip instead of cheating and not drinking anything. Kitty took a sip of broth, the warm liquid bursting with flavor. The mug passed back and forth between them, each time one watching the other to make sure they did take a drink.  
  
Orana entered the kitchen with Aveline behind her, and Kitty looked at them with relief. She tilted her head out the door and Aveline stepped away. Kitty slowly released Anders hands, and took the mug from him. Together, they had only had half of what she had ladled into the cup. She placed the mug on the table, within Anders’ reach.  
  
“I’ll be just a minute, Warden.” She said as she stood before him. Her muscles still felt stiff but she worked off of her worry and concern, willing to deal with the stiffness later after making sure Anders would be okay.  
  
She pointed at the mug and playfully narrowed her eyes at him, “No cheating. You wait for me to get back!”  
  
“I’d never think of it.” Anders said, his voice tired but Kitty could see the playfulness in his eyes. She walked out of the kitchen, nodding to Orana. The small break would make sure that Anders didn’t get sick from suddenly taking in sustenance after being so weak.  
  
Aveline waiting for Catalina in the small study; she gave a rare smile as Catalina walked into the room—Catalina was safe though she seemed tired and a bit weak herself.  
  
“I need you to do something for me, Aveline.” Catalina kept her voice low which only added to the seriousness of what she was about to request.  
  
Aveline raised her eyebrows at Catalina’s tone, and how she went straight to business. “You found him.”  
  
Catalina stared into the fireplace and crossed her arms and nodded her head. “Yes, I found him, and now I need to save him.”  
  
“Save him? Hawke—“  
  
“He’s given a lot for me, Aveline. I won’t let it become a deadly sacrifice.”  
  
Aveline watched as Catalina’s face became stern, and hard—her eyes holding a steely glare into the flames as Catalina made her demand: “Lyrium. He needs lyrium potions, a lot.”  
  
Aveline shook her head—“Hawke, I may be the Guard Captain but…”  
  
“But nothing!” Hawke brought her hand harshly against the mantelpiece. “I will get the lyrium with or without you.”  
  
Aveline recognized the tone in Hawke’s voice—it had been a while since Hawke had used it. Leandra had gotten sick on the ship, and many refused to help them. It was Hawke who managed to find a way to help her mother. Aveline crossed her arms; she allowed herself to get placed into too many questionable situations when it came to Hawke, but still, Catalina Hawke was more than a friend—she was Aveline’s family.  
  
Kitty turned and looked at Aveline, seeing the Guard Captain acquiesce to her demand. “Thank you, Aveline. I can’t let him die. I won’t—“ Kitty stopped short as her voice began to tremble and tears came to her eyes.  
  
“It might take me while, especially if it is for a large amount.” Aveline sighed.  
  
“I know. Get what you can, as quick as you can. I’ll get some for today—but at the moment it will only be a bandage against a wound that needs stitches.”  
  
“Hawke, what did Anders do?” Aveline couldn’t imagine why a mage would need so much lyrium.  
  
Kitty’s voice fell into a soft whisper as she replied, “He saved my life.” Kitty hugged her arms around her as she looked away from Aveline and back into the fire.  
  
“Hawke—“  
  
Catalina’s voice hardened with determination, “I won’t let it cost him his life.” She turned and faced Aveline as she let her arms fall away. She went to the writing desk and pulled out a few pieces of parchment. “Get Isabela and Varric to help you. Give this to Isabela and she’ll take it to Tomwise—“ Catalina quickly wrote on the parchment: an order and promise of payment.  
  
Aveline took the parchment and looked at Catalina questioningly.  
  
“Oh, Aveline. You know I count smugglers, pirates and thieves among my friends and contacts. We did work as smugglers, after all.”  
  
Aveline glared at Catalina at the mention of their past and curtly nodded her head. “You’ll have some potions soon, and hopefully a lot more by tomorrow.”  
  
Kitty headed towards the kitchen, hearing Orana answering questions. Based on the words she heard, someone was asking Orana about Hawke’s baking skills. It was with a smile that Kitty entered the kitchen. The savory soup perfuming the air with flavor that she started to feel hunger and Kitty directed her gaze towards Anders and their shared mug of broth. He sat there, waiting for her, an all too innocent look carefully placed on his face.  
  
Kitty eyed Anders warily as she walked up to the table and took the mug into her hands. She glanced down and saw that the level of broth had gone down—nothing too significant, but noticeable just the same. She glanced at Orana and Orana tilted her head a little towards Anders. Kitty gave Orana a smile in return.  
  
“Alright, Warden.” Kitty said, as she settled back down on her knees in front of Anders. “Time for round two of our game.”  
  
They drank from the mug, finishing the broth as Bodahn entered the kitchen and announced that the bath was ready. Kitty turned her head and thanked him, then returned her attention to Anders. Anders sat there smiling, the mug in his hands as he licked the corner of his lips.  
  
“I win,” Anders said as his honeyed eyes focused on her. They looked at her so intensely that Kitty saw flecks of blue light lacing those amber eyes. Kitty grinned at him, then placed her hands on her hips in mock rage.  
  
“No fair! You cheated.” There was only delight written on her face, as Anders played along.  
  
“Are you accusing a Grey Warden of cheating?”  
  
Kitty nodded her head as she took the mug from Anders’ hands.  
  
“Listen, little girl—“ Anders attempted to stand, but lost his balance. Kitty reached out but stopped as Anders caught himself.  
  
 “As I was saying.” Again, he stood and straightened his shoulders proudly. “Grey Wardens do not cheat, girl.” There was a small flare of blue in Anders eyes as Justice added to the game.  
  
Kitty looked at Anders teasingly, happy at his response. She stood and straightened her shoulders as she placed the mug on the table. “Well, I’m saying you cheated,  EX-Grey Warden.” Kitty gave a small pout at the end of her words.  
  
Anders stepped towards Kitty and gingerly caressed her cheek and held her chin. “Either way, you owe this Warden a cake…” Kitty looked up at Anders, as she playfully stuck her tongue out at him. He smiled at her and lifted her chin higher, “You owe me a cake, love. And a kiss.”  
  
Kitty felt herself warm again at his endearment. She gave a slight nod of her head, and her heart began to pound, as she waited for him to collect his prize.  
  
Anders knew what she wanted, and he wanted to but stopped himself. He released Kitty, and he watched her quickly mask the disappointment in her eyes. She swallowed her disappointment, and focused on her next task in taking care of Anders: get him a bath, a potion or two and then into bed for some rest.  
  
Kitty wasn’t sure if she should leave Anders alone in the bath. She was worried about his weakness, but when she asked him if he could be alone, Anders noticed the crimson blush color her face and he smiled at her teasingly. Kitty had quickly attempted to recover from her embarrassment by offering to get Bodahn or Sandal to help. Anders laughed and sent her away.  
  
During the bath, she had sent Havoc in to get Anders things. The mabari was a large dog, but Havoc could be stealthy when he wanted to be. Kitty made sure to offer him an incentive that would make him want to be as stealthy as he could be—it wasn’t just a soup bone, but a soup bone and actual piece of meat.  
  
Anders was tempted to tease Kitty about being a peeping tom when he noticed her hovering outside the bath door. She wouldn’t look up at him, but seemed to rather keep her eyes glued to the floor. She blindly offered him a clean set of clothes and then turned her back so that he could get dressed.  
  
Anders still was weak, but having eaten and taken a bath felt a small amount of strength—enough for him to walk without Kitty’s aid as she led him to her bedroom. His eyes widened as she pulled him through her bedroom door and pushed him towards the bed.  
  
“Kitty, I can’t take your—“  
  
“You can and you will, even if I have to sit on you or tie you down.” Kitty offered the last words teasingly.  
  
Anders gave her a teasing smile back, but felt what little strength he had gained begin to drain. Kitty watched the color leave his face, and quickly had him sit on the edge of the bed where she had pulled back the covers.  
  
“Just a little night cap, Warden and then I’ll let you sleep.” Kitty held out two vials of lyrium to Anders. Anders eyes widened at what Kitty was calling a “little night cap.”  
  
“Drink it, Anders. That’s all you have to do.”  
  
Anders took the vials from her, his fingers struggling with the cork. She held the vial for him as he uncorked it then released so he could drink the contents.  
  
Kitty watched as Anders drank the two vials of lyrium. She hadn’t been sure if he could or if she had let him drink too much broth; she wasn’t sure that the lyrium would make him sick or that Anders even would drink the lyrium potion. Kitty felt her shoulders sag as they released the tension of uncertainty as Anders drank the contents and seemed to be fine.  
  
He watched as Kitty pulled a chair closer to the bed, and settled herself in it.  
  
“Catalina, I don’t need a nursemaid.”  
  
Kitty heard the irritation in Anders’ voice, but noticed that he made no movement to leave. She stood and walked to the bed, and grabbed Anders’ hand—“I’m not your nursemaid.”  
  
Anders gasped as he felt Kitty’s weight settle on top of him; she was straddling him and held one arm above his head, and was quickly moving the other to the same position. Kitty leaned forward, her lips brushing against Anders’ ear as her breasts brushed against him. “You’re my prisoner, Warden.”  
  
Anders knew what he wanted to do, but he had let his body get too weak to respond. Kitty sat up, but stayed mounted on him. She had her hands flat against his chest and looked down at him seriously, “How much?”  
  
Anders tried to hide his lust from those deep brown eyes, “How much what?”  
  
“How much did you drain yourself to heal me?” Kitty waited for his response, and saw that he was not going to give her one.  
  
“I’m not playing this game with you, Anders.” Kitty gave a big sigh as she slid off of Anders and the bed. She hadn’t fully recovered from her injuries, and the bit of energy she had gained from Anders’ healing and then finding out he was okay was drawing on its last reserves.  
  
 Kitty slumped into the chair, “I know I took a lot of damage, and you were weak to begin with. It would take a lot to heal me—how much did you drain yourself to heal me?”  
  
Anders refused to look at Kitty, but he did make himself answer her. “Enough. I would have-- I can’t make up for what I’ve done to you—“  
  
Kitty reached over and placed her fingers against Anders’ lips. She didn’t want him agitated or blaming himself. She knew what she needed to say and forced herself out of her chair and stood over Anders.  
  
“You did nothing wrong. You were protecting yourself.” She brushed her fingers along the week’s growth of hair that lined Anders’ jaw.  
  
Kitty pushed Anders’ hair away from his face, and gazed down into his eyes, “I missed a glyph—that simple. I managed to see and maneuver around the others. As soon as you realized it was me, you stopped.”    
  
She could see the exhaustion taking over him, and kissed her fingers and pressed them against his lips. She arranged the covers over him. He was already drifting off into a deep sleep as she settled into a chair she had pulled up to the bed and watched over him until she too fell asleep.  
  
Kitty kept Anders in bed for several days, and he did not fight her on it. He could not. Anders would wake from his slumber enough to eat some broth at Kitty’s urging, and Kitty would wake him again through his slumber to drink vials of potions.  
  
She would spend time reading to him, when he was eating or as he was falling asleep. Catalina marked Anders'  improvement as he was able to take broth, and then broth with bits of meat and vegetables, and finally full fledged soup as the days progressed.  Kitty watched Anders cautiously, his safety and health the only thing her mind would focus on.  



	45. A Viper Admist Daisies

Kitty was in the study, writing a letter to Bethany when she heard Sebastian’s voice ask for her. She put away her half written letter, and rose to find him at the study door. He gave her a soft uncertain smile, and she couldn’t help but return one back to him.   
  
“How is he?” Sebastian asked, his voice quiet but full of concern.  
  
“Better—he is recovering.” Kitty stood for a heartbeat, looking at the man before her. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t make herself. He may have suggested to give Anders over to the Templars, but she truly believed he felt he was doing his best by mentioning it to her. The fact that he had told her instead of just doing it himself meant something to her.  
  
She stood smiling shyly at Sebastian, her fingers playing with the lace at the cuffs of her sleeves. Sebastian looked at Catalina questioningly, his body relaxed and leaning against the door frame, an arm behind his back clasping a small and clichéd surprise for her.  
  
Finally, Catalina couldn’t take it anymore and quickly made her way to Sebastian’s side and wrapped her arms around him. His posture straightened in surprise, not expecting her to welcome him so after their confrontation in the Chantry—even after he offered her solace when she had found Anders was missing. Kitty now held onto him tightly, and Sebastian responded by wrapping one arm around her waist.  
  
Kitty spoke muffled words into Sebastian’s chest, “I’m so sorry Sebastian. I never meant to hurt you.”  
  
Sebastian continued to hold Catalina against him, his eyebrows raised in surprise at her words. “Hurt me? Hawke, I—“  
  
Catalina pulled away from him slightly, one hand holding onto his hips as she looked up at Sebastian, a finger tracing a small scar on the bridge of his nose. “For this, Sebastian. I shouldn’t have done such a thing to you, even if I was angry.”  
  
Sebastian wanted to laugh; in his mind he had made the wound some kind of miraculous scar reminding him of what his loss of control had cost him; a scar that appeared from no where.  But with the hot touch of her fingers against him, he remembered holding her in place as the anger flashed in her eyes—a warning that was not adhered to and how she solidly bashed her head against his nose when he did not let her go—even though he had wanted to, even though he could have sworn that he had released her.  
  
Sebastian looked down into those earnest eyes he saw fog his mind when he did not keep it under control—they were full of promise and concern, she truly was sorry that she had hurt him in such a manner. He smiled at her, “I’m the one who needs to apologize, Hawke.”   
  
Sebastian released his grasp from Hawke’s waist, as he brought the small bouquet of flowers from behind his back.   
  
“I’m sorry I haven’t come by sooner to beg forgiveness for my rashness…” He held the flowers out to her almost sheepishly. Sebastian had fought with himself on whether she would even accept such a simple and “girly” gift. He was glad he decided to bring them when he saw the way her face lit up at the blooms.  
  
“Really? For me?” Catalina couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice.  
  
“Who else? Beautiful blooms for a beautiful woman.” Sebastian gave a charming lopsided smile to Hawke. His eyes grew bright and he began to feel the heady fog that was Hawke began to charm his senses as he saw the red bloom that took her cheeks at his words.  
  
Flowers. He brought her flowers—no one ever brought her flowers. They always assumed she wouldn’t like them. She had gave a small giggle as she took the blooms from Sebastian—her flowers. Just because she carried daggers and swung a greatsword didn’t mean she didn’t like little gifts like flowers.  
  
Sebastian had to smile at the sweet innocence that Hawke gave as she held the bouquet of daisies in her hands.   
  
“I’ll have to take care of these! Walk with me?”  
  
Sebastian gave his head simple nod in response to Hawke’s question, following her as she led him to the kitchen. He watched her as she wrapped them in a wet cloth, and set them to the side.  
  
“I’m actually pretty awful at arranging flowers.” Catalina gave a lopsided smile to Sebastian, “I’ll let Orana arrange them so they can be as beautiful as when you gave them to me.”  
  
Sebastian bit his tongue as his mind gave him words that he could say, words that would have so easily fallen off of his lips to Hawke had this been another life, before he had given himself to the Chantry.  
  
Sebastian walked over to Catalina and leaned against the counter beside her. “Hawke, I need to speak with you.”  
  
Almost immediately, storm clouds began to shade Catalina’s face from the sunshine that the simple daises had brought to her features.   
  
“What is it, Sebastian?” Catalina didn’t even try to hide the shakiness in her voice.  
  
“Two things.” Sebastian held two fingers up on his left hand, as he reached for Catalina’s hand with his right. He held her hand in his, and gave a small sigh of relief when she didn’t tense or pull away from him. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around his and turned and looked at him.  
  
“I’m sorry for what happened in the Chantry, Hawke. It was misguided of me to suggest turning Anders over to the Templars. Please,” Sebastian held Hawke’s hand against his cheek, staring down at her with his blue eyes, hoping they revealed the honesty to his words.” Please, understand that I just worry about you and your safety.”  
  
Catalina gave a small smile to Sebastian. “I can understand that, Sebastian. But, I can take care of myself too.” Catalina stroked Sebastian’s cheek, trying to lessen the pain of her words. “I don’t need someone to take care of me.”  
  
“No, you don’t. But that doesn’t automatically mean no one will want to take care of you.” Sebastian peered down into Catalina’s eyes and placed a hand on her waist, gingerly, gauging ever move that she made.  
  
Catalina felt the warmth of Sebastian’s hand on her waist and peered up at him. She didn’t tense, she felt no need to. She felt safe with Sebastian, and knew that what he was saying was true—he only wanted to make sure she was safe.   
  
It seemed like minutes but was only seconds—they stared at each other, unspoken words heard between them both. He cared for her more than his title would allow, and she cared for him but she also cared deeply for another.  
  
Gingerly, she stood on her toes and reached up and traced the scar on his nose—the scar that she put there in her anger.  
  
“I’m sorry for this, Sebastian.” She said, as she stroked raised flesh with her fingertips, and then resting her hands on his shoulders to balance her, she raised herself even higher on her toes as she again gave the scar a gentle kiss. “I am so sorry for hurting you. But you need to know, things happened in my past that make me—“  
  
Sebastian placed a finger on Hawke’s lips. “Don’t. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”   
  
Kitty looked up into Sebastian’s calm blue eyes, and she felt a burst of warmth from within her. The way he looked at her made her feel so many things—  
  
“Sebastian, I—“ Kitty turned her head and began to walk away from him.  
  
“You’re a beautiful woman who deserves to be wooed not ambushed.” Sebastian spoke the words as another apology—soft spoken yet full of meaning.  
  
Catalina’s eyes opened wide as she turned and looked at Sebastian coquettishly. “Such words from a Chantry Brother…”  
  
“I’m a Brother of the Chantry, yes.” Sebastian closed the small distance between them—a distance that he could have easily crossed with a reach of his arm, but he moved his body to be closer to hers.  
  
“But I’m also a Prince. I am a reformed rogue. I am a simple man who cannot help but to admire the tempting beauty around him.” Sebastian held Catalina’s hand as he brought it to his lips as he kissed her fingers.  
  
Catalina felt her body ignite, and the rush of blood painted her cheeks with a flush of pink. Sebastian felt his body tighten, his mind racing as he imagined seeing that flush paint Catalina’s cheeks as she lay contented across his bed. The weight of Andraste brought the sinfully familiar pain and discipline across his groin and Sebastian knew that Hawke would always be his temptress. Still, he would not leave her side.  
  
“Am I interrupting something?” Orana asked, her eyes cast down as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen.  
  
“Orana, no darling. I’m sorry we’re in your way.” Kitty gave a big smile to Orana, thankful that she had come back into the kitchen.  
  
“Anders is looking for you, Mistress.” Orana still refused to look up at Sebastian, but glanced up at Catalina.  
  
“Is he awake?” Sebastian and Orana heard the hope in Hawke’s voice. Sebastian felt desire morph into jealousy.   
  
Orana nodded her head, and Hawke looked towards Sebastian. She then turned to Orana, “Tell him I’ll be with him in a minute.” Orana nodded her head in recognition to her orders and left the kitchen quickly.   
  
Hawke turned and faced Sebastian. Sebastain smiled at Hawke, his eyes began to roam her body in a poor attempt to console himself at how her voice and demeanor had changed to something so much more when Anders was mentioned as wanting her.  
  
Sebastian cleared his throat, attempting to regain his strength and place. “The second thing I needed to speak with you about is the kitten you wanted from the Chantry.”  
  
Catalina’s eyes lit up at the mention of the little ball of fur and Sebastian felt a sudden sickness at knowing that he was about to disappoint her greatly.  
  
“I’m sorry, Catalina, but a several of the Mothers led by a Mother Petrice want to keep the kittens from this litter.”  
  
Sebastian watched as Catalina’s lips had formed a smile and how that smile fell so quickly at the idea of losing another kitten.  
  
‘But I thought they were—“  
  
“Yes, they were set to be given away. But, this litter has turned out to have a talent for catching mice.”  
  
“Well, isn’t their mother one of the better mousers of the Chantry?”  
  
“Yes, and the Mothers want to keep the litter to continue to have good mousers.”  
  
“So, I don’t get my—“ Kitty bit her lip as disappointment colored her face. Mother Petrice, what was it with that awful woman?  
  
“No, I’m sorry.”    
  
“Andraste’s great flaming—“  
  
Kitty’s eyes widened as she realized what she was about to say in front of Sebastian—her eyes having fallen on his belt fashioned after Andraste.  
  
Sebastian gave a small laugh as he saw Hawke grow embarrassed at what she was about to say. He wrapped a tendril of Catalina’s loose curls around his finger. “I’m sorry, Hawke. I promise, I’ll make sure you get a kitten from the next litter.”  
  
Hawke stared at the floor, a pout on her lips. She wanted to grumble, but knew it would be rather childish to do so. Still, she was not happy. Sighing, she looked up at Sebastian and nodded her head.  
  
He smiled down at her, knowing that she really wanted to throw a fit, especially with the mentioning of Mother Petrice. Sebastian, cupped Kitty’s cheek, as she looked up at him, her arms crossed against her chest.  “I promise, you will have a kitten from the next litter.” Kitty gave have him a hopeful smile, and Sebastian ran his thumb against her lips.   
  
Without thought, more in a trance from being able to have her so close without guard, Sebastian pulled Hawke against him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, he brushed his lips against her ear as he whispered, “I would give you anything, if you only asked.” And before she could respond, he released her and left for the Chantry.  
  



	46. A Wolf In Shining Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke stumbles upon Sebastian as he holds a delivery in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter can easily be skipped or read--your choice. I describe it like candy--no nutritional value whatsoever but sometimes you just gotta have it. ^.~

Catalina Hawke was making her way towards Darktown to visit Anders, the weight of a small gift in her pocket. She could have taken the basement shortcut but decided to get to the clinic by way of The Hanged Man. When she had gotten to The Hanged Man, her usual cohorts weren’t there but Sebastian was.  
  
“Lost your way, Sebastian?” Catalina gave a teasing smile, as she placed a hand on her hip coquettishly.  
  
Sebastian gave Hawke a brilliant smile, inside he felt his muscles tighten—if she only knew how true that statement could be when it came to her.  
  
“Actually, fortuitous meetings, Mistress Hawke,” a devilish gleam added to the brightness of his blue eyes.  
  
“Aren’t they always, your Majesty?” Hawke responded with a slight curtsey, a taunting smile lingered on her lips as she took the arm of Sebastian as he came towards her.  
  
They left The Hanged Man arm in arm; Sebastian explaining how Isabela had requested his visit—and then subsequently left him as soon as she made a request, leaving before he could give a proper response.  
  
“And so, she just handed you a novel and left?” Hawke had to admit, that was a new one for Isabela; and rather tame for her scandalous friend.  
  
“That is the gist of it, though I am supposed to give the novel to you.” Sebastian looked at Hawke teasingly, acting as if he was about to hand the book over then changing his mind. “Though it is curious to see what kind of reading is being done by such deadly beauty.” He gave a wink to Hawke as he started to flip through the pages.  
  
Kitty felt her face warm; she knew exactly what kind of novel Isabela was handing over. And this would explain why Isabela would tease her by asking Sebastian to give it to her. Catalina reached out to grab the novel from Sebastian’s hands, but he was expecting such a reaction and had it lifted high, as if he were reading its contents while walking along with Catalina.  
  
“Hmm…interesting material; a Chantry Brother who finds he is royalty that had been hidden away.” Sebastian looked at Hawke, his eyebrows raised.  
  
“You know Isabela, she likes sharing what she reads and hates to keep books around her. So I get to keep them in the study.” Hawke shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear as if her ears weren’t burning with different shades of embarrassment.  
  
“Well, they did their research—vespers and cloistered rooms, vows of celibacy—oops, seems like the Brother in question decided to stray. Tsk tsk” Sebastian looked at Hawke, watching the bright red creep from her ears to her cheeks. “Why, Hawke are you blushing? Maybe you shouldn’t read such—ahem, literature—if you can’t handle…”  
  
“I can handle it just fine, thank you very much.” Hawke stuck her tongue out at Sebastian as she stopped and made a quick grab for the book—taking it off of Sebastian’s hands. With a sigh, she tucked the book under her arm and began to resume her way towards Darktown and Anders’ clinic.   
  
“Besides, how else is a girl supposed to learn about things she’s never experienced unless she reads about them?” She continued with a quick walk hoping Sebastian wasn’t really paying attention. Unfortunately, he was.  
  
“Hawke!” Sebastian stopped mid-stride. He knew she was a virgin, or at least had inferred that much; but to hear her mention it—even in the slightest. He broke into a slight trot as he chased after Hawke as she had continued walking as fast as she could without breaking into a run.  
  
He reached out and grabbed her arm, then placed it atop of his, linking her to him and making her slow her pace to match his own.   
  
Catalina gave a sigh and hung her head a little, letting her dark hair serve as a makeshift hood to hide her embarrassment.  
  
“You know, there no shame in being—“  
  
“Hush. I don’t need all of Kirkwall knowing.” Catalina hissed the words.  
  
Even though he knew she was deadly serious, he couldn’t help but to give a small laugh.  
  
“Why are you so embarrassed?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m walking with a Brother of the Chantry?” Hawke raised her head proudly and shot Sebastian a loaded look. “A handsome brother of the chantry who just handed over a romance novel chockfull of scenes that take place between a Brother turned prince and a young mercenary warrior.” She scrunched her nose at Sebastian as she made a mental note to slap Isabela later. “No, nothing to be embarrassed about at all.”  
  
“So, I take it you’ve read the book before?” Sebastian smiled at Hawke, happy that she was at least looking at him now.  
  
“Yes, I have.” Kitty held onto Sebastian’s arm as she continued walking, navigating her way to Anders’ clinic. Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she stopped and pulled Sebastian down towards her, “and yes, I am a virgin and I’d thank you not to spread it around.”  
  
Sebastian looked at her questioningly. He stopped and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look at him. He noticed that she did not tense or flinch. He became entranced as he noticed the tip of her pink tongue lick the corner of her lips as she peered up at him.  
  
“I do have a reputation to keep, you know.” She placed her hand on Sebastian’s wrist and pulled his hand away from her face though she did not release his wrist, instead sliding her hand into his as she turned away from him.  
  
“Well then, thank you for the privilege m’lady.” Sebastian smiled at Hawke teasingly but his voice was soft and serious.   
  
Sebastian walked with Catalina through Darktown, very aware of how she held on to him. What he wouldn’t have done in his younger rougish days to be the one to introduce her to worldly pleasures. Now, though he was still well versed in such pleasures, he had willingly denounced those delights and thus, the tantalizing temptation that is Catalina Hawke was placed before him to test his devotion—at least, most days that is definitely how it seemed.  
  
The reached Anders’ clinic and Catalina turned and looked at Sebastian. She popped up on her toes and hugged him close to her. He felt her warm breath send chills down his spine as she whispered, “Our little secret, right?” He felt the tip of her tongue briefly touch the outer shell of his ear as she relaxed onto the soles of her feet and looked up at him, her hands on his shoulders as he clasped her waist in his.  
  
 “Of course, as long as you’re willing to pay the piper.” He gave Catalina wink. Sebastian smiled down at Hawke, a wolfish grin on his face.  
  
Catalina’s pink lips dropped open, her mouth forming a small o of surprise. “And how much will the song cost this poor little lamb?” Her eyes shined playfully as she grinned at him wickedly  
  
Sebastian brushed Kitty’s curls behind her ears, cupping her face in his hands and he lifted her face towards him, his eyes focused on her pink wet lips. “Not a penny, but—“  
  
“Just a small bite from a wolf in shepherd’s clothing?” Kitty raised up bringing her lips tauntingly close to Sebastian’s.  
  
Wolf in shepherd’s clothing—that is very much what he was. He released Hawke and stepped away, a slight flush coloring his face. The teasing grin she had been given him changed into one of genuine surprise as he seemed to abandon her from his touch. Sebastian balled his hands into fists, attempting to break the seduction she had woven over him—a seduction that he had begun.  
  
Sebastian gave an apologetic smile to Hawke. “Time for this lost lamb to find his way back to the fold.”   
  
Hawke gave a small smile to Sebastian at his words, and simply nodded her head. She watched him walk away before she entered the doors of the clinic.  
  



	47. The Touch of the Dark Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty gives Anders an amulet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another "candy" portion--after all, sometimes you gotta have more than one fun sized piece. =D

Anders was working at the small table at the back of clinic. At least, he was trying to make it look like he had been working there. Instead, he had been lingering by the clinic doors having heard Kitty’s laugh carry through the clinic. He had glanced out of the doors as a patient had left and caught sight of Kitty and Sebastian. Anders had to be careful—he had promised he would not leave her. A promise she may not have heard, but one that he intended on keeping. He just didn’t know what he would do if he had to stay knowing that infernal Prince and Brother had won his Kitty over. Anders stood, putting a little more force than necessary into the tearing of leaves from the stems of the plant he was about to turn into a fresh poultice.  
  
Kitty saw Anders standing at the back of the clinic, and realized that he probably wouldn’t even notice her coming into the clinic. Had she been paying attention, she would have noticed how he stood taller when she would walk in, and how he would angle his body towards her in any way that he could.  
  
She stalked up behind him quietly, intently watching so she could catch him by surprise. Kitty reached out to grab Anders by the waist when he turned and clasped her waist in his large hands, scooping her up and placing her on the table in front him. Kitty let out a small squeal of surprise as she saw the flash of blue marking Justice shine in Anders’ eyes as the word “Boo” was still forming on her lips.  
  
Anders and Justice peered down into Kitty’s happy eyes playfully as they waited for her to catch her breath. Placing their hands on either side of her, they leaned down and brought their eyes level with hers. She smiled happily.  
  
“One of these days, Warden…” Kitty cocked her head to the side and smiled at Anders impishly, “I will surprise you!” She leaned forward, placing the tip of her nose against Anders’ as they stared into each other’s’ eyes.  
  
Anders stepped back with a laugh when he saw her pretty eyes morph into one.  
  
“Maybe one day, my little kitten. But today is not that day.” He gave her a wink then leaned against the table’s edge next to her.  
  
Kitty felt herself warm at Anders words, his soft voice ringing in her ears calling to her infinitely, “kitten.” She let the warmth spread through her, ultimately forming a bigger smile on her lips as she leaned towards him, her hand digging in her pocket to pull out the small gift she had found.  
  
“I thought you’d might like this.” The small amulet lay hidden in the palm of her hand as she held it out to him.  
  
Anders looked at Kitty questioningly, “You got me a gift? I hardly think I’ve done anything to deserve that.”   
  
He raised his eyebrows at her. She got him a gift—like having spent all that time with her when he was weak wasn’t enough of one—even now, when he went to sleep in his own bed he smelled the intoxicating perfume that was Kitty Hawke weaving fantasies and dreams in his slumber.  
  
Anders smiled at her teasing, “Hmm, well, it is too small to be that cake you owe me.” He smirked at her expression of embarrassment as she pushed her hand towards him, growing impatient with his small little taunt.   
  
“Well then, is it a…” He held out his hand and she deposited the content of hers into his palm. She watched him as he examined the small amulet and then saw his eyes grow wide and his voice came out quieted but rushed: “…That’s a Tevinter Chantry Amulet. Do you want me to get executed?”  
  
 Of course he knew that she would never want that, but-- Oh, Maker! A Tevinter Chantry amulet in the hands of an apostate—a “possessed” apostate! Anders looked at Kitty questioningly, wondering if she truly didn’t know how dangerous this gift was. “It’s sacrilege to wear those in any land under the Divine.”  
  
Kitty caught the surprise and small note of concern in Anders voice. Of course she knew it was sacrilege to wear such an amulet in Kirkwall. But she wasn’t asking him to wear it openly, or at all. All she wanted was for him to know that she understood what he was fighting for and that she would be there at his side throughout the battles and the entire war if he would have her.   
  
“The Divine condemned their chantry because it freed mages from the circle.” She leaned back and toyed with the half stripped branch she picked off of the table. Kitty looked up at Anders, hoping that he could understand that she meant no harm, but rather the opposite. “I thought you might sympathize.”  
  
Anders almost felt bad for having the reaction that he did, after all, this was a gift from Kitty and she had done everything in her power to make sure that he wouldn’t be harmed. He smiled at her apologetically, “I like it.”   
  
He ran his fingers over the amulet as he thought about her sentiment. Anders again looked into Kitty’s eyes and grinned playfully, “Maybe not on the outside of my clothes. I’m not that eager to face the hanged man’s noose. But I appreciate the thought.”   
  
Kitty smiled back at him, she reached out and pulled on the lapels of his coat bringing him closer to her. She took the amulet from him and tucked it in a small pocket that he had on the inside—one she had discovered when she held him as her prisoner.  
  
As Kitty was deftly hiding the amulet away, Anders watched her taking in how her fingers moved seemingly without thought but her faced bore traces of concentration in making her movements seem effortless. Kitty looked up at him when she was sure the amulet was tucked securely way, and placed her hands on his chest. Anders smiled at her, nodding his head towards her in thanks.  
  
“I’ve never really thought what life might be like in the Tevinter Chantry.” He leaned back against the table beside her, his hand placed over hers at the table’s edge as his fingers mindlessly toyed with hers. He looked down and began to watch how she moved her fingers to match his. “In the Circle, they make it sound like the Void itself.”   
  
He stood and faced her suddenly, the fingers of his left hand tapping on the back of her palm. “The Black Divine, stalking Thedas, making it unsafe for kittens, and virgins” he said coarse and roughly his voice reverberating with a seductive menace. He ran his fingertips over the back of her hand slightly pinching his way to her wrist as if they were the Black Divine stalking the sweet innocence of her skin.  
  
Kitty felt the all too familiar warmth of being around Anders so innocently and playfully always brought color her skin. She smiled at him, unconsciously licking her lips. She turned her hand and grasped his stalking fingers in her palm. With her right hand, she began to feel each of his long and gentle fingers with her own fingertips, tracing them, feeling her soft skin rub against the edge of his rougher one.  
  
She looked up at him, her fingers still dancing against his as her voice almost purred, “Those kittens and virgins will just have to find a nice strong mage to protect them.” Kitty wrapped her fingers around his, clasping his hand in both of hers.  
  
“Ha! From what I hear about the Tevinters, that’s the last thing they’d want.” He started to feel dizzy from the dangerous game of seduction he had started. Anders felt the heat of her hands surround his and he let himself steep in that heat—knowing that the strong brew of attraction between them would have to reach its pinnacle soon or break into bitter dregs. He mentally shook himself out of the stupor that he had fallen into with Kitty being so near.   
  
He withdrew his hand from hers, “The virgins any way. I’ve never heard about any horrific kitten rituals.”  
  
“:Well, of course—what mage would dare to hurt kittens?” Kitty said playfully while struggling to keep her face utterly serious. “And I know at least one virgin who’d be more than happy to see solace in the arms of a mage.” Kitty felt herself give Anders a wink as a small mew of a pout formed on her lips as she jumped down from the table.  
  
Anders eyes opened wide in shock. Kitty Hawke never ceased to amaze him in all her wonder and splendor, and now this little tidbit gave him even more to think over. “I appreciate the gift.” He reached out and cupped his palm around her full and pink cheek. “Perhaps one day I can return one as meaningful.”   
  
Kitty leaned into Anders palm, her eyes drinking in the way he was looking at her. She could see the question in his eyes, wondering if she as serious about her teasing virgin comment. Truthfully, she had no idea why she even bothered to say such a thing, it just happened. But if it made him look at her that way—then she wouldn’t be upset with herself for saying it, after all it was the truth.  
  
She backed away from Anders slowly, having done what she set out to do—deliver a small gift—and then some. As she pulled away from him, she did offer him one invitation, “Dinner tonight at the estate, and for dessert you’ll finally get your cake.”  
  
Anders watched after Kitty Hawke as she walked away and smiled foolishly. He was damned for sure and it wasn’t because of merging with Justice. No, his damnation came in the form of the playful and gorgeous will-o-wisp that was Catalina Hawke and like the doomed traveler that he was, he would willingly and blindfully follow her beautiful and eerie light to the depths of the blackest Void.  
  



End file.
